



JO 



:ght.N"._ 



COPYKIGHT DEPOSm 



THE FOUR GREAT AMERICANS SERIES 

BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES FOR YOUNG READERS 

Edited by James Baldwin, Ph.D. 



^^ 



FOUR AMERICAN PIONEERS 



The Four Great Americans Series 

Edited by JAMES BALDWIN, Ph. D. 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES OF GREAT AMERICANS 
FOR YOUNG AMERICAN READERS 

I. FOUR GREAT AMERICANS 

George Washington Benjamin Franklin 

Daniel Webster Abraham Lincoln 

By James Baldiuin, Ph. D. 
Cloth, illustrated, 246 pages, .... Price, 500 

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Patrick Henrv Alexanuer Hamilton 

Andrew Jackson Ulysses S. Grant 

By Alma Holmatt Burion 
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Pai'l Jones Oliver H. Perrv 

David G. Farragut George Dewey 

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IV. tOUR AMERICAN POETS 

William Cullen Bryant Henry W. Longfellow 

John G. Whittier Oliver Wendell Holmes 

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Washington Irving Edgar Allan Poe 

James Russell Lowell Bavard Taylor 

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VI. FOUR AMERICAN PIONEERS 

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David Crockett Kit Carson 

By frances M , Perry ntiii Katherine Beehe 
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VII. GREAT AMERICAN EDUCATORS 

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David P. Page Henry Barnard, et nl. 

By A. E. Winship, Litt. D. 

OTHER VOLUMES IN I'REFARATION 




DANIEL BOONE. 



FOUR AMERICAN PIONEERS 

Daniel Boone David Crockett 

George Rogers Clark Kit Carson 



A BOOK FOR YOUNG AMERICANS 



FRANCES M. PERRY fir KATHERINE BEEBE 




WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY 
NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON 






Office Of thff 

MAY 1 1900 

Hefflstor of Copyrights 



SECOND COPY, / ^ ^ S'T^ 




. 61461 

Copyright, 1900, 
By Werner School Book Company 



jrf)f ILakcBitif ^Prt2S 

R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY 
CHICAGO 



r 



CONTENTS. 



THE STORY OF DANIEL BOONE 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Childhood . . . . . . .11 

II. A Young Hunter ..... 14 

III. Westward Ho! ...... 17 

IV. A Second Robinson Crusoe . . 21 
V. East Again ....... 25 

VI. Preparing the Way ..... 28 

VII. The New Kentucky Home . . . .31 

VIII. Indian Hostilities ..... 35 

IX. Boone Made Prisoner . . . . .39 

X. Captivity and Escape .... 42 

XI. Preparations for the Siege . . .46 

XII. The Siege of Boonesborough ... 49 

XIII. Dark Days . 55 

XIV. Old Age , . 61 



CONTENTS. 



THE STORY OF GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 



CHAPTER 



I. Boyhood and Youth . . . . .73 

II. "Kentucki" ...... 75 

III. The Conquest of Illinois . , . .80 

IV. Colonel Clark and the Indians . . 89 
V. Indian Treaties ...... 95 

VI. Vincennes ...... loi 

VII. Through the "Drowned Lands" . . 105 

VIII. The Capture of Fort Sackville . . no 

IX. The Delaware Indians . . . .118 

X. Back in Kentucky ..... 120 

XI. Lochrv's Defeat ...... 124 

XII. Border Troubles . . . . .126 

XIII. After the War . . . . . . 128 



CONTENTS. 



THE STORY OF DAVID CROCKETT 

CHAPTER 

L A Neglected Child .... 

II. A Homesick Boy ..... 

III. A Runaway . . ■ . 

IV. A Hired Hand . . » . 
V. A Householder ..... 

VI. A Soldier ...... 

VII. A Leading Citizen . , „ . 

VIII. A Bear Hunter .... 

IX. A Congressman . . ' . 

X. A Traveler 

XI. A Daring Adventurer 

XII. A Hero of the Alamo 



135 
138 
142 

145 

154 
158 
165 
172 

175 
179 
188 



V 



5 ~ CONTENTS. 

THE STORY OF KIT CARSON 

CHAPTER PAGB 

I. Preparation ...... 197 

II. Getting a Start ...... 201 

III. Trapping in California .... 207 

IV. The Second Expedition . , . . 215 
V. Free Trapping ....... 221 

VI. Fair and Camp ...... 225 

VII. Hunting in the Rockies .... 230 

VIII. Carson and Fremont ..... 237 

IX. West with Fremont ..... 242 

X. Again on the March ..... 245 

XI. At Home ....... 249 



THE STORY OF 

DANIEL BOONE 



By Frances M. Perry 




DANIEL BOONE. 



DANIEL BOONE 

THE HERO OF KENTUCKY 



I. — Childhood. 

When Daniel Boone was a child the land west of the 
AUeghanies was a wilderness inhabited only by Indians. 
But in Virginia, and other places east of the mountains, 
there were fine houses with broad porches and large, 
richly-furnished rooms. There stately men in powdered 
wigs and knee-breeches, and queenly dames in stifi" 
brocades and high-heeled shoes, lived and brought up 
little American boys and girls after the fashion of their 
English cousins. 

However, it was not in such a house nor among such 
people that Daniel Boone learned to walk, and talk, and 
think. His father was a poor man who lived in a rude 
log cabin on the outskirts of a dark forest in Pennsyl- 
vania. There Daniel spent his happy childhood. 

The cabin was small, but that made it very snug in 
winter when the snow was blowing outside and the logs 
were blazing in the great stone fireplace. And in sum- 
mer, if there was not room enough for the large family 

II 



12 DANIEL BOONE. 

in the small house, there was plenty of space out of 
doors. The little folks in that humble home were not 
fed on pies and cakes, but they had an abundance of 
plain food which makes strong muscles ; and sharp 
appetites gave it flavor. The beds were hard, but all 
slept too soundly to think of that. 

The rough hunter loved his children fondly. When 
he came home from a day's hunt and Daniel toddled 
down the path to meet him, he tossed the sturdy little 
fellow upon his shoulder and let him examine the heavy 
flint-lock with eager baby fingers. Or perhaps he had 
brought a shy rabbit or cunning squirrel to his boy, just 
as your father sometimes brings a ball or a toy to your 
younger brother. 

Daniel loved animals and had no fear of them. 
These tiny creatures of the woods were his play- 
fellows, and his father's hunting-dogs were his com- 
rades. 

As soon as he was old enough he went with his 
brothers and sisters to the log schoolhouse to learn to 
read and write. The schoolroom was small, dark, and 
comfortless. The master was cross and unjust. The 
place seemed like a prison to Daniel. 

He was glad to shun such a place and plunge into the 
forest with his gun on his shoulder and his dog at his 
heels. There he felt free and happy. Long, solitary 
tramps through the woods in quest of game were his 
greatest pleasure. He was usually so successful in 



CHILDHOOD. 



13 



hunting that his father made no objection to his staying 
away from school. 

The youthful hunter might have been hurt or 
lost while on these lonely rambles, but he rarely had a 
mishap; for he was as cautious as he was brave. His 
habit of hunting alone 
made him observing and 
self-reliant, for there was 
no one to whom he could 
go for advice when in 
trouble. 

When exploring new re- 
gions in fair weather he was 
guided by the sun ; and 
when the day was dark and 
cloudy the thick moss on the 
north side of the tree-trunks 
told him which way to go. 
He rarely needed such guides, 
however, for, like the wild animals, he 
seemed to know his way by instinct. 

He soon knew the forest for miles 
around. He could name the trees at 
a distance from the color of their leaves. In the win- 
ter he knew them by their bark, their manner of branch- 
ing, and their forms. He could find the finest nuts and 
the most luscious berries. He knew the tiniest wild 
flowers, and where and when to look for them. 




A hunter's equip- 
ment. 



14 DANIEL BOONE. 

He was very much interested in animals, and studied 
their haunts and habits. He became a good marksman, 
for he could keep a cool head and a steady hand at the 
most exciting moment. 

He knew many Indians; he visited their tents; ate 
their food; hunted with them; traveled with them; and 
learned their customs, their tricks, and their character. 

Thus, while other American boys were being schooled 
in English manners and were being prepared to meet 
the British on equal terms and defeat them, Daniel 
Boone was taking the lessons in forest lore and Indian 
craft that were to fit him to subdue the wilderness and 
vanquish the red man. 



II. — A Young Hunter. 

Daniel Boone grew to manhood without caring much 
for the peaceful, industrious habits of civilization. 
Farming he did not like. Business and politics were 
uninteresting. He was even indifferent to the war with 
the French and Indians, which was then exciting his 
countrymen. Hunting claimed the most of his time 
and attention. He was an ideal hunter, having been 
fitted by nature and training for that life at a period 
when hunting was not a sport, but a serious occupa- 
tion. 

Though not unusually tall, he was finely formed. He 



A YOUNG HUNTER. 15 

had the grace and freedom of a strong man who has 
plenty of the right kind of exercise. His broad, deep 
chest showed that he could run very fast without getting 
out of breath or panting. His light springing step 
carried him over the ground so swiftly and easily that 
men hurrying along the road behind him were sur- 
prised to see how fast the distance between them 
increased. 

When necessary he could work harder and longer 
without food or rest than other men. No Indian was 
more quick and nimble or more artful and cunning 
than Boone when he was trying to outwit .an enemy or 
surprise timid game. 

He had a fine head and his face was by no means 
commonplace. The high forehead, the clear, calm eyes 
and the firm mouth, all told of a manly courage to 
which imprudence and fear were equally impossible. 

In his disposition he was kind and accommodating, 
and his friends and relatives respected and admired the 
quiet youth, of whose skill and strength wonderful 
stories were told. Of course there were fault-finding 
strangers who did not think so well of him, but criti- 
cised his rough clothes and called him stupid because 
he was not interested in the same subjects that they 
were. 

It made little difference to Daniel Boone whether 
people liked or disliked his conduct, so long as he could 
foreet the rest of the world in the old forest with its 



l6 DANIEL BOONE. 

woody odors, its deep silences, and numberless living 
creatures. But when at last the sound of the woodman's 
ax began to rival the report of the hunter's gun in his 
beloved forest, and the frontiersman's cabin and corn- 
field appeared in the clearings, he became dissatisfied. 
He did not like to see his hunting grounds turned into 
farm-lands. He was well pleased, therefore, when his 
father decided to move to a new settlement on the 
Yadkin River, in North Carolina, which was reported to 
be a fine hunting district. 

There were no railroads then, not even wagon roads, 
and movers had to travel on foot or on horseback. 
Fortunately, they seldom had many articles of sufficient 
value to carry with them. When the Boone family 
reached the end of their long journey, Daniel helped his 
father and brothers to make a loghouse much like their 
old Pennsylvania home. 

This cabin did not shelter him many months. He 
met a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked lass in the settlement. 
He loved her so dearly that he decided to build a little 
home of his own if he could only persuade the sweet 
Rebecca to be its mistress. He was very happy when 
he found that she loved him in return, and they were 
soon married. They went to housekeeping in a poor 
but romantic cabin on the edge of a beautiful forest. 

For a while this forest furnished them with all they 
needed, but as more people came to live in the neigh- 
borhood Daniel Boone again saw the game driven away 



WESTWARD HO ! . 1 7 

by advancing civilization. He tried to cultivate the 
soil and manage a small farm, but he found such work 
much harder than hunting. 

Then, too, the inequality of the settlers in wealth and 
position distressed him. The rich had large plantations, 
fine houses, slaves, and luxuries of all kinds. They 
seemed to think their wealth gave them rights which 
their poor neighbors who dressed in deerskins and lived 
in log cabins did not have. This vexed the independent 
Boone and he became unhappy and restless. 



III. — Westward Ho ! 

Boone heard glowing reports of the hunting-grounds 
beyond the mountains, from John Finley, who had been 
there trading with the Indians. He thought that such 
a country would be an ideal place in which to live. 
He talked the matter over with his friends and found 
five tried hunters who were willing to go with him 
on a hunting and exploring expedition through that 
region. 

So in the spring of 1769, when his neighbors were 
hard at work sowing and planting, Daniel Boone said 
farewell to his wife and children and started for the 
distant west. 

He and his companions were going to a country 
where there were no hotels, no houses, not even stores 



i8 



DANIEL BOONE. 



where they might buy food, clothing or blankets. 
Money would be useless to them there. Yet they car- 
ried with them no provisions or other articles except 
powder and bullets, for their rifles and hatchets must 
furnish them with the necessities of life. 

As they passed through the settlement the people 
came to their doors to look after the six men. They 




MAP SHOWING THE PLACES VISITED BY BOONE. 



wore comfortable deerskin hunting-suits trimmed with 
fringes of slashed deerskin. On their feet were stout 
moccasins of the same material. Full powder horns 
dangled from their belts, and every man had a strong 
hunting-knife, a tomahawk, and a rifle. 

All the boys who saw them on that pleasant spring 
morning thought they looked very brave and manly and 
told their mothers that they too would be hunters when 
they grew up. But the older people shook their heads 



WESTWARD ho! I9 

and said that it was much better to be a farmer or a mer- 
chant. And the boys might have agreed with them if 
they could have traveled for a day or two with those 
hunters. 

While the weather was fair and bright the hunters 
kept in good spirits. But heavy rains soon fell. The 
mountain paths were muddy and slippery. There were 
no bridges, and so they had to cross the swollen moun- 
tain streams as best they could, sometimes wading, and 
sometimes floating themselves over on logs or rude rafts. 

Wet through, cold, often hungry, they could not help 
sighing for the comfortable homes they had left. But 
they were hardy men, and trudged on with no thought 
of turning back. 

The bad weather continued. As they got deeper 
among the wild and unexplored mountains, the difficulty 
of traveling increased. They did not know at what 
moment they might be attacked by a band of Indians. 
Even Boone thought it a most unpleasant journey. He 
called the cliifs "wild" and "horrid" and said it was 
"impossible to behold them without terror." To him 
they looked like the " ruins of the world." 

After a month's hard tramping they reached the crest 
of the heights that overlook the rich plains of central 
Kentucky. As they viewed the valleys and rolling 
forest lands below them they felt rewarded for their 
difficult march. The scene was beautiful and prom- 
ising. Large herds of buffaloes were seen grazing on 



20 DANIEL BOONE. 

the hillsides or browsing on the leaves in the cane- 
brakes. Deer and all sorts of choice game assured them 
of abundant food. 

They built a rude hunters' lodge of logs and bark, as 
a shelter from rain. This they made their headquarters. 
In the morning they started out by twos and later in 
the day all returned to the lodge, bringing the fruits of 
a day's hunt. In the evening they cooked and ate a 
hearty supper and told the adventures of the day. 

Sometimes one reported that he had seen signs of 
Indians. Then all were cautious for a short time. x\s 
they became acquainted with the neighboring country 
they took longer trips, meeting less often at the lodge. 
In this way they spent the summer and fall. 

A few days before Christmas, as Daniel Boone and a 
single companion were enjoying a ramble through a 
beautiful section of the country, rich in game and 
timber, they were waylaid by a party of fifteen Indians. 
It was useless to make resistance, and they were over- 
powered and made prisoners. 

Boone knew the Indian character well. He knew 
that the savages would probably kill them if they were 
troublesome or disagreeable, and so he acted as if he 
were well pleased with his new life. His friend fol- 
lowed his example; and when the Indians found that 
the prisoners could march just as far as they them- 
selves could, that they could go as long without food, 
always appeared contented, and never tried to get away, 



A SECOND ROBINSON CRUSOE. 21 

they thought them very brave fellows and did not watch 
them so closely. 

On the seventh night after they had been made pris- 
oners, Boone saw that they were unwatched. While 
all the Indians were sleeping he roused his companion 
and, seizing their rifles, the two stole away. When the 
Indians awoke next morning, their former prisoners 
were already far on their way toward the old lodge. 



IV. — A Second Robinson Crusoe. 

The fugitives hastened to the old meeting place 
expecting to find friends and good cheer. Instead they 
found the lodge empty and deserted. At first they were 
struck with dismay. They were full of anxiety for 
their companions. They were sorry to lose the valu- 
able skins they had collected. And after their recent 
experience with the Indians it was not pleasant to 
know that they were the only white men west of the 
mountains. 

But Daniel Boone was not the man to be driven 
from his purpose by fear or discomfort or any ordinary 
disaster. This ill-fortune only made him more de- 
termined to succeed. The two men went to work with 
energy to repair their loss. 

A few days later, on returning from a long hunt, 
they saw two white men approaching their camp. 



22 DANIEL BOONE. 

Hurrying to welcome the new-comers, Boone was sur- 
prised to meet his own brother, Squire Boone. He had 
started with a fellow adventurer to explore the country 
and find, if possible, some trace of Daniel. By the 
marks which the hunters had left along the route, he 
had been able to trace them to the camp. 

You may imagine how glad Daniel Boone was to see 
his brother and hear from his wife and children. And 
you may imagine how glad Squire Boone was to meet 
the brother whom he had begun to fear that he should 
never see again. 

A larger fire than usual was made that night in the 
little cabin, and the choicest game was roasted over 
it for the cold and hungry travelers. In talking over 
their adventures and plans, all forgot that they were 
tired, and the fire burned low before they went to sleep 
in their warm buffalo robes. 

The following days were spent in hunting and ex- 
ploring. The men were cheerful and hopeful. Four 
seemed to them a goodly company; but their number 
was soon reduced again to two. Squire Boone's com- 
panion returned home, and Daniel's friend was killed 
by the Indians. 

The brothers prepared a more comfortable cabin for 
their winter quarters and passed that season in safety. 
In the spring their supply of powder and lead got so low 
that it was necessary for one of them to go back to 
Carolina for more. It was decided that Squire Boone 



A SECOND ROBINSON CRUSOE. 23 

should go. He started on the first of May. So, just 
one year from the day on which Daniel Boone had left 
his home and set out for the West, he was left alone 
in the wilderness. 

After his brother had left he was as lonely as Robin- 
son Crusoe. He had not a dog or a horse to keep him 




ALONE AT THE HUNTERS' CAMP. 

company. He was in constant danger of being cap- 
tured or shot by Indians. His only food was game and 
wild fruit. 

Few men could have endured such privations. But 
Boone's life from childhood had prepared him to 
accept such circumstances almost as a matter of course. 



24 DANIEL BOONE. 

At first he felt lonesome and thought much of his wife 
and children, but he had no fear. 

He explored the country, following the traces or 
roads, made through the cane by buffaloes and other 
animals, to the salt licks. He traced streams to their 
sources, named rivers, noted the forests and the vege- 
table products of different regions, and marked good 
locations for settlements. He often traveled far from 
his camp on these occasions and slept under the open 
sky. At night he heard wolves howl and panthers 
screech, but he knew they were too well supplied with 
game to care to molest him. 

He was always on the lookout for Indians. He learned 
that he was in a territory which was the home of no 
tribe, but the common hunting and battle ground of 
many. He knew that his camp had been discovered, 
and he feared it was watched; for on returning to it he 
often found that it had been visited. 

In spite of so many dangers he really enjoyed this life 
better than the uneventful life of a farmer, and never 
regretted the step he had taken. Still when three 
months had passed he began to look rather uneasily at 
his small store of ammunition and watch anxiously for 
his brother. And he felt sincerely thankful when he 
met him at last in the old camp. Squire Boone brought 
horses, powder, lead, and, best of all, news of the health 
and prosperity of the dear ones at home. 

After another fall and winter spent in hunting and 



EAST AGAIN. 25 

exploring the land along the Cumberland River, the 
brothers returned to Carolina. But Daniel Boone had 
found the place that he wished to make his home and 
left it with the expectation of returning soon with his 
family and friends. 



V. — East Again. 

Daniel Boone did not telegraph to his wife that he 
was coming home, nor did he write to her, for you must 
remember that there was no telegraph then, and there 
were no mail coaches in that part of the world. But if 
Mrs. Boone had been getting ready for weeks, the 
floor could not have been whiter, the tins could not 
have been more shining bright, the fire could not have 
blazed more merrily, the corn-bread could not have been 
lighter, and the children could not have been more trim 
and neat than they were on that spring evening when 
the weather-beaten hunter stood again at his own door 
after an absence of two years. 

How overjoyed they were to see him ! No wonder 
the brisk little woman in homespun let the bowl of lus- 
cious strawberries fall with a crash on the clean floor 
while she gave a cry of delight and ran into his out- 
stretched arms. Then those tall, fine-looking boys and 
girls, who had grown so that he scarcely knew them, 
crowded about him and almost smothered him with 
caresses. 



26 DANIEL BOONE. 

When the news of Boone's return spread through the 
neighborhood, friends and relatives came in to welcome 
him.. He was quite a hero. Every one wanted to 
hear of his adventures and learn about the rich land 
he had found. Mrs. Boone was so proud of her brave 
husband, and so happy in having him home again, that 
she forgot all about the two long years of hard work and 
separation. 

He gave such a glowing account of Kentucky that 
all his family thought it would be fine to go there and 
were pleased to hear him say that he would take them 
back with him. Some of the neighbors said they would 
be glad to join them. This was just what Boone 
wanted, and he began at once to organize a party of 
emigrants and prepare for the departure. 

The farm had to be sold. Provision had to be made 
for the comfort of women and children. Then, there 
were delays caused by people changing their minds 
after they had promised to go, and more than a year 
passed before a company of five families was ready, 
with cattle and household goods, to start for the new 
home in the wilderness. 

They began the journey in good spirits. In Powell's 
Valley they were joined by forty men. The whole 
party pressed eagerly forward, full of hope. They had 
crossed two ranges of mountains and were nearing the 
third when those in front were startled by rifle reports 
in the rear. 



EAST AGAIN. 



27 



They turned back and found that the young men 
driving the cattle had been attacked by a band of In- 
dians. The emigrants charged npon the savages and 
drove them away. But six of their bojs had fallen in 
the first fire. 

Among those killed was Daniel Boone's eldest son. 
Overcome with grief and fear, the party would not go 
on. Boone, therefore, led them back to the settlements 



iL»>*^' OLD FLINT LOCK RIFLE USED BY BOONE. 

on the Clinch River. Here, still far from his promised 
land, he staid with his family until 1774. 

The fame of Boone's explorations in Kentucky 
reached the ears of the governor of Virginia, who at 
that time had a party of surveyors working along the 
Ohio River. The Indians had become so hostile that 
these men dared not come back the way they had gone, 
and it was dangerous for them to stay where they were. 

The governor requested Boone to go to the Falls of 
the Ohio to find and conduct them home, overland. He 
was glad to do this and set forth at once with one com- 
panion. About two months later he returned to the set- 
tlement with the surveyors, having made the journey 
of eight hundred miles through a country without roads 
in sixty-two days. 



28 DANIEL BOONE. 

A little later the governor made him captain of three 
garrisons, and sent him to fight the Indians. A treaty of 
peace soon put an end to the hostilities between Virginia 
and the Indians, and Daniel Boone was again without 
employment, but not for long. 



VI. — Preparing the Way. 

A company of rich men in North Carolina thought 
they might increase their wealth by buying a large tract 
of land in famous Kentucky and selling it off to settlers 
in small farms. They would first have to buy the land 
of the Indians. 

As Daniel Boone knew all about the land, they wished 
him to take charge of this part of the business. Accord- 
ingly he went, in their behalf, to a council of Indians 
and bought the land on terms satisfactory to both Indians 
and white men. 

After the treaty was made an old Indian shook hands 
with Boone and said: "We have given you a fine 
country, brother, but you will have trouble to settle it" 

The men who had bought the land wished to see it 
occupied. In order to encourage movers to go there 
they wished to have a road opened and a fort built. 
Boone was put in charge of this undertaking. A better 
man for the work could not have been found. He had a 
personal interest in it, for the road was to be traveled 



PREPARING THE WAY. 



29 



by his own family and the fort would protect them in 
their new home. 

At the head of a band of well-armed workmen, hired 
for thirty-three cents a day, he commenced the work 
2:)romptly. It went forward rapidly, for the road was no 
more than a rude path, marked and cleared so that a 
line of pack horses mig^ht travel over it. Although 




THE FORT AT BOONESBOROUGH. 



always on the lookout for an attack from the Indians, 
the road-makers were not molested until they had nearly 
completed their work. When within fifteen miles of 
the place which Boone had decided upon for the station, 
the party was fired upon by Indians. Though the white 
men finally drove the savages away, two of their num- 
ber were killed and two wounded. 

Three days later the Indians made a second assault. 



30 DANIEL BOONE. 

That time Boone lost two more of his men and three 
were wounded. This resistance only roused the deter- 
mined leader to put forth greater effort to finish the 
road and build a strong fort to defend his employers' 
property against the claims of men who, he thought, 
had no right to it. 

On the first day of April, 1775, they began to build a 
fort near a salt lick about one hundred and eighty feet 
south of the Kentucky River. While busy with this 
work, which was not completed until the middle of 
June, they lost one man. When finished, the station 
was named, in honor of the man to whom it owed its 
existence, Boonesborough. 

The fame of the fertility of Kentucky had spread, and 
several parties of Virginians ventured that year to cross 
the mountains and visit the wonderful hunting-ground. 

Their object was to claim lands for future settlement. 
For Virginia, the state to which the territory of Ken- 
tucky belonged, had offered four hundred acres of land 
to every one who would clear a portion of it, raise a crop 
of Indian corn, and build a rude cabin. 

The settlers did not fell the large trees, but cut the 
bark so that they would die. Then having cleared 
away the underbrush, planted corn, and put up rude 
huts on desirable tracts of land, most of them went 
back to their homes in the East. These men expected 
to sell or use their lands when the country was better 
settled and less dangerous. 



THE NEW KENTUCKY HOME. 3 1 

Daniel Boone had no thought of getting rich by claim- 
ing and selling Kentucky lands. To him it seemed a 
good place for a home just as it was. 

As soon as the fort was completed he left it in charge of 
a few men and returned to the settlement on the Clinch 
River, to move his family to the home he had prepared 
for them. 



VII. — The New Kentucky Home. 

Boone was a happy man when he said good-by to the 
quiet little community east of the Cumberland Moun- 
tains and set forth with his wife and children for the 
land he loved. 

It took much courage for Mrs. Boone to leave home 
and friends and attempt a second time the perilous jour- 
ney through the wilderness from Clinch River to Boones- 
borough. But she was a brave woman, and, if her heart 
was heavy with sorrow and fear when she passed the spot 
where, two years before, her eldest boy was shot, she hid 
her grief, and her husband did not know that she was 
less happy than he. She noticed the beautiful scenery 
and spoke of the fine air. 

Where the way was broad enough, Daniel Boone rode 
beside her. His happiness made him more talkative 
than usual, and he pointed out objects of interest or 
related some adventure that had befallen him here or 
there along the road. Then he spoke of the new fort 



32 



DANIEL BOONE. 




THE NEW KENTUCKY HOME. 33 

and told how strong it was and liow safe they would be 
from the Indians when they reached it. Thus he talked 
until the entire company shared his enthusiasm. 

But all the time he was on the alert. No stragglers 
were allowed to linger behind the company or stray 
aside to fall victims to Indian cunning, and all reached 
Boonesborough in safety and with high hopes. 

How beautiful the new home was! The world seemed 
so grand and free and all their own. Mrs. Boone and 
her daughter stood on the banks of the Kentucky and 
felt a thrill of pride when Daniel Boone told them that 
they would be remembered in history as the first white 
women to behold that stream. 

Everything was new and unusual. They were inter- 
ested in the curious animals and strange plants. They 
felt the charm that he had felt, and were glad to be 
there. Then, too, they thought themselves so safe 
when once inside of the great palisade. Before the 
novelty wore off and before they had time to be lone- 
some other families joined them. 

The station consisted of several cabins opening on a 
hollow square and surrounded by a wall about twelve 
feet high, made of stout posts, sharpened and planted 
firmly in the earth. At the corners were projecting, 
strong blockhouses. 

In the daytime the men went outside of the palisade 
to hunt, and plant or tend their corn. The women 
went to and from the spring for water. The children 



34 DANIEL BOONE. ' 

played about the gate. The cattle browsed on the tender 
cane leaves. But at night all assembled within the 
sheltering walls. 

Each of the families had a separate cabin. Five or 
six of the men who had no families clubbed together in 
a single dwelling. Living so close together and having 
the same interests all were as well acquainted and friendly 
as one great family. 

And what good times they had in the evening after 
the day's work! Such feasts, such fiddling, such danc- 
ing and singing ! Never was fairy tale listened to with 
such breathless interest as were the adventures of those 
daring hunters. With plenty of work to keep them 
busy by day, and frolics and story-telling for the even- 
ing hours, they had little time to regret old friends and 
little occasion to fear the Indians. 

This tranquillity was interrupted and the Christmas 
cheer of the pioneers was changed to sorrow and appre- 
hension, for on the twenty-fourth of December one 
of their number was wounded and another killed by 
prowling savages. 

After that they were left in peace for some time. 
Their cane-fed cattle gave them the most delicious 
cream, butter, and cheese. The women and boys worked 
in February and March making maple sugar, which the 
children said was almost as good as the golden honey 
that the wild bees had stored for them in the old for- 
est trees. Crops flourished. The salt licks furnished 



INDIAN HOSTILITIES. 35 

good salt. The wild animals provided them with meat 
and skins. In short, nature cherished them in rude 
plenty, and they were happy and prosperous in their 
new home. Their experience had encouraged others to 
follow their example, and several stations sprang up in 
the vicinity. 



VIII. — Indian Hostilities. 

No signs of the Indians had been seen for some time. 
The boys began to call them cowards and to boast what 
they would do if one dared to venture on their land. 
Even the older people had begun to feel rather secure. 
But one evening in July on returning from a hunt 
Daniel Boone found the settlement in a state of great 
excitement. Women were weeping and wringing their 
hands ; there were watchmen at the gate with loaded 
rifles ; men were melting bullets, and all looked 
troubled. He soon learned the cause of this distress. 

His young daughter and two of her girl friends had 
imprudently crossed the river in an old boat. When 
they reached the opposite bank they were seized by 
Indians and carried away. It was impossible for those 
who saw the deed to help the terrified girls, for they had 
taken the only boat. 

When Boone heard the sad story his eyes flashed, but 
he spoke quietly and all were cheered by his strong, 
sensible words. He immediately took the matter into 



36 DANIEL BOONE. 

his own hands. He told the broken-hearted mothers 
that they need have no fear for their daughters' present 
safety, as the Indians treated women captives with kind- 
ness and respect. He promised to return their daughters 
to them safe and sound. 

No one knew the force of the enemy, but eight brave 
men offered to go with Boone to rescue the girls. With- 
out loss of time they began hunting for some trace to 
show the route taken by the Indians. By daylight they 
were on the track of the red men and in eager pur- 
suit. 

The Indians had scattered and marched through the 
thickest cane they could find, so that the white men 
would have hard work to follow them. But Boone did 
not try to follow them. He led his men in the same 
direction by a better way for about thirty miles. Then 
turning to cross their path he came upon their tracks in 
a buffalo road. 

Boone and his men quickened their march and soon 
came upon the savages, who had halted and were prepar- 
ing a meal. The Indians were so surprised that they 
fled, leaving prisoners and rifles behind. The white men 
fired after the flying foe and two fell. But, satisfied to 
find their children, Boone and his friends refrained from 
punishing the kidnappers further, and hastened back to 
the fort with the poor frightened girls. 

There was great rejoicing when they reached the 
station. The girls were kissed, scolded, and cried over 



INDIAN HOSTILITIES. 37 

by the women. The small boys regarded them as 
heroines. 

This was the beginning of a long struggle between 
the Indians and pioneers. The whole region was alive 
with savages. They laid siege to all the stations. They 
did not usually advance boldly and attack, the settle- 
ments in large companies, but hid themselves, watched 
their chances and killed their enemies singly whenever 
they could do so without risk to themselves. 

If it had been possible for the white men to stay 
within their fortifications they would not have suffered 
much from these sieges. They fought with an enemy 
cruel and cunning, but unacquainted with the arts of 
civilized warfare. To the Indians, the storming of forts 
was a new and vain- undertaking. A log fortress was 
as unconquerable as one of stone, so far as these simple 
warriors were concerned. 

But the pioneers depended on the great world outside 
of the fortress for food and clothing. To keep up the 
supply of such materials it was necessary to make fre- 
quent sallies from the palisade. Prudence was needed, 
but action was just as necessary. The pioneers were 
obliged to risk the uncertain danger from Indians to 
avoid the sure misery of starvation. 

Those were days, weeks, months, of terrible anxiety 
to the little bands of settlers scattered through the 
wilderness. Wherever the white man went his path 
was beset with danger. The sly savages lurked behind 



38 DANIEL BOONE. 

trees or in bushes. Stones and stumps afforded them 
hiding places. 

The hunter in pursuit of game was shot down and 
scalped. The parties on the way to the salt licks were 
fired into by unseen hands. The farmer, hoeing his 
corn, was slain. The boy, stooping at the spring to fill 
his pail, received a bullet in his breast. The first man 
who chanced to come out of the gate in the morning 
fell face downward on the earth, and before the cloud of 
gun smoke had cleared away the stealthy redskin had 
vanished. 

In the dead of night firebrands were thrown upon the 
roofs of houses — cattle were killed or driven away. 
Whenever hunger forced the besieging party to with- 
draw to hunt, the pioneers made the most of the time to 
plow fields or harvest grain, to collect cattle or replenish 
their stock of buffalo or bear meat. 

Several times the garrisons were assailed by large 
bands of Indians. When they were one or two hundred 
strong they ventured to approach the forts and attempt 
to batter down the gates. Their fury, their war whoops, 
their faces terrible with paint and hatred, filled the 
breasts of the besieged with terror. But they were 
usually driven back by the sharp-shooting palefaces 
with greater loss than they inflicted. 

It was in such trying times as these that Boone 
seemed most the hero. The harassed people who had 
come to share his fate in the wilderness regarded him as 



BOONE MADE PRISONER. 39 

their leader and adviser. But that fearless, generous 
man insisted on serving as well as leading. 

He was eager to do the most dangerous work. He 
went out on the road to meet emigrants and lead them 
by secret ways to the stations. He journeyed by night 
from station to station. He got game and salt for the 
famishing garrisons. 

Often he met and struggled with Indians, but he 
seemed to bear a charmed life. None of them could 
boast greater cunning or alertness than he, none equal 
strength and marksmanship. He became known and 
feared as the captain of the " lyong Knives." 



IX. — Boone Made Prisoner. 

In the winter of 1778 the salt supply gave out in 
Boonesborough. Now, there are very few articles of 
food that please us without salt; and indeed salt is 
necessary to the health of man and beast. As the 
Indians were no longer lurking about the fort, but had 
gone back to their villages to spend the winter, the 
settlers thought they might safely send a party of men 
to the springs to make a quantity of salt. 

Accordingly, thirty men, with kettles and sacks, left 
Boonesborough on the first of January for the Lower 
Blue Licks, on Licking River. 

There were famous salt springs at this place; and it 



40 



DANIEL BOONE. 



had derived its name from the fact that immense num- 
bers of deer and buffaloes resorted there to lick the salt 
which collected around the edges of the springs. 

The pioneers wished to make a large quantity of salt, 
and the licks were for weeks the scene of great activ- 
ity. Some of the 
men drew the 
water from the 
springs ; some 
tended the fires; 
others watched 
the boiling liquid 
in the great iron 
kettles. 

When the 
water had all 
evaporated the 
salt crystals 
that were left in the 
kettles were emptied 
into large sacks. These 
the men kept in a dry 
place until they had as much salt as the packhorses 
could carry; then they sent it to the garrison in charge 
of two or three men, while the others stayed at the spring 
and made more salt. 

A hunter and scout was needed to supply the 
workmen with food and give warning if the Indians 




MAKING SALT. 



BOONE MADE PRISONER. 4I 

should approach. These duties were left to Daniel 
Boone. 

One day, when at some distance from the camp, he 
found himself surrounded by a large body of Indians. 
Seeing that he could not escape, he cheerfully yielded 
himself prisoner. 

He was not slow to learn the reason why this strong 
band of savages had left their homes to make a long 
march in the middle of winter. They were on the 
warpath. Their scouts had told them that most of the 
men were away from Boonesborough and they were 
hastening to destroy that fort while it was defense- 
less. 

Boone knew enough about Indian warfare to realize 
what a horrible fate awaited the settlement, so dear to 
him, if these pitiless men could not be turned from their 
purpose. He pictured the helpless women and children 
attacked by howling savages. In fancy he saw them 
rushing from their flaming homes only to fall a prey to 
the cruel tomahawk. Then he imagined the midnight 
massacre of the salt makers that would probably follow 
this bloody deed. 

If he could only get word to the men at the licks 
they might rush to the defense of the garrison and save 
it and themselves! But that was a vain wish and Boone 
bent his whole power to accomplish possible good. It 
seemed to him better that strong men should suffer 
imprisonment than that the devoted women who had 



42 DANIEL BOONE. 

shared the hardship of frontier life should be slain or 
that all should perish. 

He therefore reasoned with the chief and persuaded 
him that it would be much wiser for him to take the 
salt-makers prisoners than to destroy the garrison, as he 
would receive large rewards for them from the British 
at Detroit. 

The Indians saw the truth of what he said, and when 
he assured them that he had such power over his men 
that they would yield without resistance if he com- 
manded them to do so, they were pleased with the 
prospect of such an easy and safe victory. They prom- 
ised him that if he would put the "Long Knives" in 
their power they would treat them well. 

Convinced that he had done the best in his power for 
all concerned, Boone gravely, but without faltering, 
led the braves to the camp of the astonished salt-makers. 
They were amazed to hear the word ' ' surrender ' ' from 
Daniel Boone; but they obeyed, believing that he had 
good reason for his action. You may be sure that those 
brave men agreed that he had done wisely when they 
learned of the danger that had thus been turned from 
the women and children of their rarrison. 



X. — Captivity and Escape. 

Well satisfied with having taken so many prisoners, 
the Indians returned to Old Chillicothe, north of the 



CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE. 



43 



Ohio River, to show their prisoners and celebrate their 
victory. They were faithful to their pledge and their 
captives fared as well as their own warriors; but un- 
willing hearts make slow traveling, and the Boones- 
borough men found the one hundred and sixty miles' 
march in bitter winter weather a long and hard one. 

They reached the Indian village in February. Run- 
ners were sent in advance to announce the return of a 
successful band of warriors, and the people of the village 
assembled to give the victors a noisy welcome and 
satisfy their curiosity regarding the prisoners. 

In March Boone and ten of his men were sent to 
Detroit in charge of forty braves. General Hamilton, 
the British commander at that place, had made a treaty 
of friendship with the Indians and had offered a reward 
for white prisoners. It was for the purpose of getting 
this reward that the prisoners were taken on this long 
march. 

Boone, in a certain way, enjoyed it. Alert and observ- 
ing as usual, he saw much to interest him in the country 
through which they were passing. It was just such a 
trip as he would have enjoyed taking had he been free. 
The Indians felt him to be a powerful man. They ad- 
mired him and stood in awe of him. The more they 
saw of him the better they liked him. 

When they reached Detroit they sold the other pris- 
oners to the British, but refused to give up Boone. A 
large sum of money was offered in exchange for this im- 



44 DANIEL BOONE. 

portaiit prisoner. The Indians refused it, saying they 
liked him so well they wished to make him one of their 
tribe. 

The British had promised to treat him well and he 
had a strong dislike for Indians, yet Boone showed 
no disappointment when he heard this, but appeared 
very ready to remain their prisoner. He was not easily 
overcome by misfortune. He went back with the 
Indians and took up his life among them with a cheerful 
face and hopeful heart. 

He longed to hear from Boonesborough and to send 
word of his safety to his family. He felt sure that he 
would succeed in making his escape before long, and in 
the meantime he did not find it hard to live as the 
Indians did. 

He was bathed, to wash away his white blood, and 
received into the tribe with due ceremony as the adopted 
son of a chief. He worked for his captors, making salt 
for them and tending their crops. He served so faith- 
fully and always acted in such a friendly, manly way 
that he soon won the confidence of the entire tribe. He 
was allowed to go hunting and always brought back 
presents of fine game to the great chief or king. 

When asked to measure his power in shooting at a 
mark or in running races with the savages, he showed 
his good sense and freedom from vanity. He saw that 
they were jealous of him if he surpassed them in skill, 
so he let them win in the contests, but came so near to 



CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE. 



45 



victory that he held their respect and admiration. 
They soon came to trnst him so much that they did not 
think it necessary to watch him closely. This was 
what he wanted. 

In Jnne, on returning from a salt-making expedition, 
he found the villasre full of strange Indians. As it was 




SHOOTING AT A MARK WITH THE) INDIANS. 



supposed that he could not understand the speech of the 
new-comers they talked freely in his presence, and he 
soon picked up enough words to learn that the braves 
were assembling to attack Boonesborough. When he 
heard that, he decided that the moment had come for 
him to attempt flight. 



46 DANIEL BOONE. 

He would be killed if caught, but at all risks he must 
make an effort to escape and warn his people of their 
danger. His captivity had been the means of saving 
the garrison once, he would save it again by escape. 

Hiding a piece of dried venison in his hunting shirt, 
he started at daybreak "to hunt." As soon as he was 
well out of sight he took pains to hide all marks that 
would show the Indians the way he had taken, then 
started with great speed for Boonesborough. His 
haste was so great that he did not stop to eat. He was 
in continual dread of being overtaken, and traveled night 
and day till he reached the Ohio. 

He was not a good swimmer and he was perplexed as 
to how he should cross the river. lyuckily he found an 
old canoe on the bank. It leaked badly, but a few 
minutes' work made it sufficiently water-proof to carry 
him to the opposite bank. Once across the river, he 
rested a little, shot a wild turkey for food, and thus re- 
freshed, renewed his journey to the settlement. 



XI. — Preparations for the Siege. 

When Boone came in sight of the familiar old fort he 
quickened his steps and his eye brightened. He forgot 
that he was tired and foot-sore. He forgot for a moment 
the terrible fate that threatened the station. The faces 
of his wife, his children and neighbors filled his thoughts 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE SIEGE. 47 

and the prospect of seeing them all again made him 
happy. 

His coming caused great rejoicing. Men and women 
thronged about to shake hands once more with their old 
captain. But Mrs. Boone was not among them; for, 
losing hope of her husband's return, she had gone back 
to her father's house in North Carolina with all her 
children except one daughter. Boone's disappointment 
on hearing this was softened by the thought that his 
loved ones were out of harm's way, and he soon forgot 
his personal affairs in thoughts of war. 

He interrupted the numerous questions concerning 
his welfare to ask about the strength of the fortification. 
He inquired whether certain repairs needed at the time 
of his departure had been made. The men explained 
that they had been so busy farming and hunting that 
the fortifications had been neglected. Captain Boone 
found upon examination that this was too true. No 
repairs had been made, and the old wall was badly 
weakened in places by decay. 

For sixty men to attempt to withstand over four 
hundred Indians in this feeble fort seemed hopeless, but 
Boone did not despair. He knew his men and every 
one of them was a worker and a hero. Under his direc- 
tion they began at once to strengthen the palisade. For 
days there was a ringing of axes and a crashing of fall- 
ing oaks in the forests around Boonesborough that the 
Indian scouts heard with alarm. 



48 DANIEL r.OONE. 

Inside of ten days the work was fniislied, and the fort 
was as strong as it conld well be made with sncli mate- 
rial. The garrison was ready for an attack, but an 
escaped prisoner brouglit word that the warriors had 
been disturbed by Boone's flight and the reports of new 
fortifications at Boonesborough, and would put off their 
expedition for three weeks. 

That tinii} ought not to be lost; the Indians' fear of 
them should be increased. So thought Boone; and he 
determined to take a daring step. He called for volun- 
teers and, with a company of nineteen men, made a bold 
dash into the enemy's country. He thought that if the 
Kcntuckiaus threatened the Indian villages the warriors 
might return to their homes to defend them. With 
this idea in view, he and his company advanced toward 
Paint-Crcek-Town, a village in the region where he 
had recently been a prisoner. 

When almost there they met a squad of Indians on 
their way to join those who were coming to attack 
Boonesborough. A brisk skirmish resulted, carried on 
according to the Indian foshion from Ijehind trees and 
logs. After some minutes of sharp shooting, one of the 
Indians was killed and two were wounded. 

Their comrades then fled, leaving horses and bag- 
gage behind. Encircled by this booty, Boone faced his 
men homeward, for he had learned that Paint-Creek- 
Town had been deserted and that the warriors were on 
the march. 



THE SIEGE OF BOONESBOROUGH. 49 

You may be sure that the Indians, routed by Boone's 
company, in reporting the affray to their friends, pictured 
the force that had overpowered them as much stronger 
and more terrible than it really was in order to excuse 
their own defeat. 

Perhaps it was with a hope of reaching Boones- 
borough while so many of its defenders were away that 
the Indians set forth on their long-planned journey. 
However, by forced marches Boone outstripped the main 
body of the enemy, and regained the fort without the 
loss of a single man. 

This bold deed had far-reaching results, for it encour- 
aged the garrison greatly, and made the Indians look 
upon Boone and his men with almost superstitious 
dread. 



XII. — The Sikoe of Boonesborougii. 

If the men of Boonesborougii could have trembled 
with fear they must have done so when they saw the 
host by which their little fort was soon surrounded. 
There was a great horde of Indian warriors and sachems, 
hideous in paint and feathers, commanded by Chief 
Blackfish, the same who had been Boone's master when 
in captivity. A little band of Canadians marched with 
them under British and French flags. 

Although there were not over a dozen palefaces they 
added much to the strength of their allies, because of 



50 DANIEL BOONE. 

their knowledge of stonniiig fortifications. When Daniel 
Boone saw them he knew that this siege wonld differ 
from other Indian sieges, not only in force bnt in 
method. 

And trne enongh, np came several men headed by the 
leader of the Canadians, Du Quesne, with a flag of trnce, 
and asked to see Captain Daniel Boone. As Captain 
Boone was not far away he appeared promptly. Du 
Ouesne then demanded the "surrender of the garrison 
in the name of His Britannic Majesty." That sounded 
very dreadful. They had to fight this time-not simply 
ignorant savages, but four hundred and fifty well-armed 
warriors, directed by white men experienced in arts of 
war, and acting under the authority of " His Majesty, 
the King." Captain Boone seemed deeply impressed and 
after a brief talk with the men around him asked for 
two days to consider the question. Du Quesne granted 
the request; for a man who is sure of victory can afford 
to be generous. 

As "all is fair in war," you will not be surprised to 
learn that Boone did not need two days, or two hours, 
or two minutes, to decide what the garrison would do. 
The idea of their yielding was as far from his thoughts, 
as the idea of their offering any serious resistance was 
from Du Ouesne's. He knew that they had a large 
force to encounter and that if the fort was taken by 
storm they need expect no quarter from the Indians. 
But those men who had come into the wilderness for 



THE SIEGE OF BOONESBOROUGH. 5I 

larger freedom, preferred death to captivity. It was no 
new thing for them to risk their lives against great odds, 
depending on their own strength and valor for the 
victory. 

Boone gave directions for the cattle to be brought in 
and a store of provisions and water to be collected. 
The fort was the scene of busy preparations for a long 
siege during the next two days. Even the women and 
children did their part, carrying water all day long from 
the spring. But care was taken that not many should 
be away from the fort at one time, and a constant watch 
was kept to guard against Indian treachery. No at- 
tempt was made to interfere with their work, however. 
The enemy watched all of these preparations with grim 
satisfaction. They had a cunning plan in mind and 
expected to eat the food that Boone's men were collect- 
ing with such labor. 

When the two days had passed, Du Quesne returned 
for an answer. Boone announced that the men of 
Boonesborough would resist to the last man. He then 
thanked the enemy for the time they had given him. 
He thought they would be angry and ready to fight. 
Instead, Du Quesne replied that before going to war 
they would better hear the liberal terms of surrender 
that General Hamilton offered them, and invited a 
committee of nine men to talk the matter over with 
them before the fort. 

Eight men volunteered to go with Boone to a point 



52 DANIEL BOONE. 

within gunshot of the fort to treat with the Indians. 
No arms were carried by either party. Though there 
were only nine in Boone's party many Indians attended 
the council. After some talk a paper was read, saying 
that the people of Boonesborough • would be left in 
peace if they would acknowledge the sovereignty of 
England. 

The Kentuckians saw there was treachery in this fair 
promise, but thought it wisest to conceal their doubt. 
So they signed the paper and consented to shake hands 
with the Indians. At this, eighteen strong Indians 
stepped forward and two grasped each of the nine men 
of Boonesborough by the hand and arm and tried to 
drag them away. 

The men were on the lookout for an attack, and 
each putting forth his utmost strength managed to 
escape from his two captors. The guard at the fort 
saw the struggle and opened fire. The Indians be- 
gan firing at the same time. But, wonderful as it 
may seem, the entire party reached the fort with only 
one wounded. 

Trickery had failed ; the prey had escaped from their 
very grasp. Maddened with failure, the Indians rushed 
against the fort with blind fury, yelling, battering the 
gates, and firing wildly at the log fort. 

This was the beginning of a hard struggle that lasted 
for nine days. Both parties suffered. The Indians 
found no shelter within rifle-shot of the fort, and, 



THE SIEGE OF BOONESBOROUGH. 53 

driven to open fighting, fell before the sparing but 
deadly fire from the fort. 

The little party within the fort suffered also. 
There were so few of them to watch and fight so 
many. 

The women proved a great help. They not only pre- 
pared food for the men and made bullets, but with 
courage that equaled the men's they stood beside them 
when the fight was thickest and loaded their muskets. 
Daniel Boone's daughter was wounded while loading her 
father's rifle. She was struck by an Indian bullet, but 
it was too far spent to do serious harm. 

Protected by their ramparts the men wasted no am- 
munition in aimless firing, but took good aim and shot 
to kill. A negro at the fort deserted and joined the 
Indians. He had a good rifle, and stationing himself in 
a tree within reach of the fort fired into it. Daniel 
Boone soon discovered the place from which these well- 
aimed shots were fired, and waiting till the traitor raised 
the upper part of his head above a branch to take aim — 
fired. The negro fell with his head pierced by the old 
hunter's bullet. 

Despairing of making any headway with arms, the 
Indians tried to burn the fort. A fire was started on 
the roof of one of the cabins, but it was discovered 
before it had done much damage. A brave young man 
climbed to the roof and in the face of a brisk fire from 
the enemy put out the flames. 



54 DANIEL BOONE. 

By the advice of the Canadians the assailants next 
sought to dig an underground passage or mine to the 
fort. They began to dig in the river bank above the 
water line, out of sight from the fort, and out of reach 
of its guns. But the men at the fort soon guessed what 
they were about, by the muddy water in the river 
below the fort. Boone ordered a trench cut across this 
passage. The earth removed was thrown over the wall 
of the fort. When the enemy saw it they knew that 
their plan was discovered and would be defeated. 

They gave up the hope of success, and returned to 
their homes sullen with shame, grief, and disappoint- 
ment. Thirty-seven of their proud warriors were slain 
and many were wounded, but that was not all. They 
had lost hope of regaining their hunting grounds from 
the " Ivong Knives." The British were not less disap- 
pointed ; they had to bear the expense of the war ; 
they had lost the confidence of the Indians, and the 
western bulwark of American freedom was as strong as 
ever. 

The people of Boonesborough had reason to rejoice. 
All but six, two killed and four wounded, had escaped 
the fire of the enemy, which had been so heavy that 
after the siege they picked up one hundred and twenty- 
five pounds of bullets around the walls. By their suc- 
cess they encouraged immigration and discouraged the 
Indians. In short, they had saved Kentucky. And 
Daniel Boone was the hero of the day. 



DARK DAYS. 55 



XIII. —Dark Days. 



Everybody was now talking about Boone's courage 
and skill, and he was rewarded by being given the rank 
of major. But pioneer life was full of struggles and the 
glory of victory was soon lost sight of in the little 
battles and victories of daily life. Boone went to Caro- 
lina for his wife and children. He was given a cordial 
welcome and stayed there a short time. His safe return 
with reports of success influenced many families to emi- 
grate to the west. 

Boone succeeded in reaching Boonesborough again, 
but said afterwards that his troubles on that journey 
would fill a book. It was at that time that he was 
robbed of his own fortune, and worse, of money entrusted 
to him by others, for the purpose of buying land. Some 
people accused him of dishonesty, but not those who 
knew him. This is what one of the men whose money 
he lost wrote: 

"I have known Boone in times of old, when poverty 
and distress held him fast by the hand; and in these 
wretched circumstances I have ever found him of a 
noble and generous soul, despising everything mean; 
and therefore I will freely grant him a discharge for 
whatever sums of mine he might have possessed at that 
time." 

During Boone's absence serious danger had threatened 
the settlement. The British had organized an army of 



56 DANIEL BOONE. 

savages and invaded Kentucky with cannon. The 
frontiersmen knew that the sheltering walls that had 
saved them so often from Indian violence could not 
stand before the fire of cannon. Two stations were 
taken, but the difficulty of moving artillery over the 
rough ground caused the party to give up the undertak- 
ing before Boonesborough was reached. 

In the autumn of 1780 Boone and his brother went on 
an expedition to Blue Licks. On their way home they 
fell into an Indian ambuscade. His brother was killed 
and it was only by great exertion that Daniel Boone 
escaped. 

He was fleet of foot and cunning as an Indian, but he 
could not throw the pursuers off his trail. He discov- 
ered that they were led in the chase by a dog. He 
knew that he could not deceive the creature's instinct, 
and so he waited until it came near him and shot it. 
Without its guidance the Indians were soon outwitted 
by the hunter. 

He made the rest of his journey home without ad- 
venture, but with a heavy heart. The brother who 
had been his devoted companion through years of dan- 
ger and hardship had been cruelly killed, and he missed 
him sadly. 

The winter that followed was a bitter one. The 
ground was covered with snow from November till Feb- 
ruary, and the cold was so intense that cattle and even 
wild beasts froze to death. To add to the suffering of 



DARK DAYS. 57 

the settlers there was a corn-famine, for much of the 
corn had been destroyed by the Indians. Buffalo meat 
was their chief food. 

In spite of so many hardships the settlements 
grew and increased. The Indians became desper- 
ate and rallied to make a last attempt to crush the 
intruders. 

In the summer of 1782 they invaded Kentucky under 
the leadership of two white men, who lived with the 
Indians and helped them in their attacks upon settle- 
ments. They assailed Bryant's Station first. But the 
little garrison offered a stout resistance and they were 
obliged to withdraw. The militia were summoned to 
pursue them. Then came a day terrible for the pioneers 
of Kentucky — a day not to be named among them with- 
out a thrill of horror — a day that filled the stout heart of 
Daniel Boone with bitterness and grief 

Colonel Boone (he had been made Lieutenant-Colonel) 
and his men, most of them veterans in Indian warfare, 
were among the first to answer the call for aid. With 
the tried soldiers of his troop was a youth about to 
engage in his first battle. This was Israel Boone, the 
son of Daniel. 

The company that met at Bryant's Station was a good 
one for any but an enemy to look at. Those men 
had such rugged frames, such keen, intelligent faces, 
and such an air of self-confidence, Their leaders were 
men distinguished for deeds of valor — backwoods 



58 DANIEL BOONE. 

heroes, whose names were household words and whose 
adventures were fireside stories in every settlement. 
But there was none among them so well fitted to be 
guide and commander as Daniel Boone. None knew 
the ground so well. None knew the foe so well. None 
had such a glorious record as he. But the command 
was given to an older officer. 

There was some disagreement as to whether they 
should advance at once or wait for Colonel Logan with 
his men. Most were in favor of immediate pursuit. 
Boone advised delay. He called attention to the fact 
that the Indians had made no effort to conceal their 
route, had even marked the trees with their tomahawks 
as if to invite pursuit. He noticed, too, that the camp- 
fires were few, and inferred that the Indians were trying 
to hide their strength. His warning was not listened to 
and he was accused of cowardice. 

The troops advanced- without seeing anything of the 
enemy until they reached the Licking River at Lower 
Blue Licks. Here the vanguard saw a few Indians on 
the other side of the river. Before crossing the stream 
a council of officers was held. Boone again advised 
caution. He predicted that they would find about four 
or five hundred Indians in ambush in the ravines 
along the ridge on the other side. If they insisted on 
continuing he proposed a plan by which they might 
hope for victory. 

The discussion was interrupted. A rash young 



DARK DAYS. 59 

officer raised a warwhoop and with the shout, "Those 
who are not cowards follow me; I will show them where 
the Indians are," plunged into the river. He was 
eagerly followed by many. 

Boone paused a moment, and his men stood firm 
waiting for his command. He believed those men were 
rushing to their death. But he could not stand back 
and let them perish without another effort to save 
them. He ordered his men forward. At Boone's 
entreaty there was another halt across the river, and 
scouts were sent out to examine the ravines. They 
reported no Indians. And the Kentuckians again went 
forward. 

As they neared the ridge the long grass in the 
ravines suddenly became alive with armed savages. 
A deadly fire was poured upon the troops from both 
sides. Many fell, dead or wounded. The others 
returned fire, but in vain. To face those terrible 
volleys meant death. A retreat was ordered. It 
became a flight. The Indians were upon the terror- 
stricken men, brandishing their tomahawks and mad for 
blood. 

Boone held his men together as long as there was 
hope of united action. Then all became disorder. It 
was a bitter thing for him to see those young men, the 
flower of the settlement, dead upon the bare earth, but 
when his son Israel was shot the father forgot others. 
He took his dying boy in his arms and with the strength 



6o DANIEL BOONE. 

of love and despair strode through the flying bullets 
unhurt. 

Many a brave deed was done that day. One man who 
had been called coward proved himself valiant. He 
was making his escape on a fine horse when the fate of 
the men trying to cross the river appealed to him. He 
called to his comrades with the air of a commander: 
"Halt! Fire upon the Indians and protect our men." 
They obeyed and the pursuit was checked. Another 
brave fellow saw an old, lame officer unmounted. He 
gave him his own horse and took his chance of escape 
on foot. The fugitives were pursued for twenty miles, 
but most of those who got across the river in safety 
escaped. 

About sixty of the Kentuckians fell that day and as 
many Indians. The grief throughout the settlements 
was bitter and their revenge was terrible. 

A thousand frontiersmen commanded by George Rog- 
ers Clark, the famous hero of the Northwest, were soon 
marching into the Indian country. With them went 
Daniel Boone, in whose advice everybody placed the 
greatest confidence. 

The Kentuckians crossed the Ohio River, and marched 
rapidly upon the Indian towns on the Miami River. 
The red men were taken by surprise while celebrating 
the victory which they had gained at Blue lyicks. 
Clark's army was within two miles of their principal 
town when they first learned of its approach. They 



OLD AGE. 6l 

fled in the greatest haste, and made no attempt to defend 
their homes. 

The frontiersmen burned all the Indian towns on the 
Miami, destroyed the crops, and killed every Indian that 
came in their way. The red men had never been so 
severely punished, and they were greatly disheartened. 
"They learned," said Boone, "that it was useless for 
them to keep on fighting with the whites." 

After this, the Indians made but little serious trouble 
in Kentucky. The settlers now felt themselves secure, 
and they could give more attention to their clearings 
and farms. 

But a few red men still lurked in the woods, or came 
across the Ohio River, intent upon mischief. And 
it was not until some years later that life was entirely 
safe throughout the Kentucky settlements. 



XIV.— Old Age. 



Peace was declared between England and America 
and the Indians were no longer incited by the British 
to attack the settlers. The harsh punishment they had 
received for their last expedition had its effect too, and 
the Red Men gave up trying to conquer the "Long 
Knives. " Kentucky was dotted with cabins and block- 



62 DANIEL BOONE, 

houses. The day of Indian wars had passed. Bnt the 
savages still troubled lonely farmers. They were ever 
on the watch to attack the defenseless or kidnap 
children. 

Daniel Boone built a neat log-house on a fine large 
farm, where he lived surrounded by his family and 
friends. He was a marked man and the Indians would 
have been glad at any time to capture him. 

One day he was in his barn loft, examining his 
tobacco, which had been thrown across the rafters to 
dry. Hearing a noise, he looked down and saw four 
well-armed Indians standing below him. 

"Now, Boone," cried the leader, "we've got you. 
You no get away any more. We take you off to Chilli- 
cothe this time. You no cheat us any more." 

Boone saw their loaded guns pointed at him, and knew 
that resistance would be useless. But he recognized the 
men as old acquaintances belonging to the same party 
that had captured him years before when making salt at 
Blue Licks. So he said pleasantly, "Ah, my friends, 
how glad I am to see you! Just wait till I have turned 
the rest of this tobacco, and then I'll come down and 
shake hands with you." 

The red men wanted him to come down at once; but 
when he told them he would go quietly with them, they 
consented to let him finish his work. 

Boone, while busy tossing his tobacco about, chatted 
pleasantly with the four savages, and recalled the old 



OLD AGE. 63 

times when he had competed with them in hunting and 
in shooting at a mark. They became so deeply inter- 
ested in what he was saying that they forgot themselves 
and put their guns down upon the ground. 

Suddenly Boone threw a quantity of the dry tobacco, 
full of dust, down into their upturned faces. At the 
same moment he jumped upon them with as much of 
the tobacco as he could carry in his arms, filling their 
eyes and mouths with the choking, blinding dust. 
Then, before they could recover themselves, he ran as 
fast as he could towards his cabin. 

He had gone but a little distance when he looked 
around to see what the Indians were doing. To his 
great amusement he saw them groping around as 
though blinded, reaching out their hands to find their 
rifles, and feeling their way out of the dense cloud of 
tobacco dust. He could not avoid a taunting laugh, 
while the Indians cursed themselves as fools and called 
after him in no pleasant manner. But he was soon safe 
in his cabin, and the four savages were obliged to return 
sadly to their people without the prisoner whom they 
had hoped to bring. 

Although shrewd in his dealings with Indians, Daniel 
Boone was simple and straightforward in his dealings 
with men of his own race and he expected the same 
treatment from them. He was therefore surprised and 
indignant to find that because he had neglected some 
legal formality the land that he had discovered, explored, 



64 DANIEL BOONE. 

wrested from the Indians, cleared and cultivated, be- 
longed, not to liim, but to the man who had signed the 
proper papers. 

He loved Kentucky. The soil, the trees, the rocks, 
the rivers, were dear to him. Here he had spent 
the most eventful years of his life and known his 
deepest sorrows and keenest joys. He was proud 
of it. 

Its settlement was in a large measure his work. But 
he was homeless in the land where he had founded 
homes for others. 

He made a brief visit to his birthplace in Pennsyl- 
vania, then went to Virginia, where he found a lonely 
spot near Point Pleasant on the Great Kanawha in the 
center of a rich game district. There he lived for five 
years, finding quiet enjoyment in the wild woods with 
his gun and his dogs. Then there came to him glowing 
reports from the land beyond the Mississippi. He had 
a brother and son there, and their descriptions of life in 
that region made him think of early days in Ken- 
tucky. He determined to join them. So at sixty years 
of age, the great pioneer, accompanied by his faithful 
wife, started west again, away from civilization into 
the wilderness. 

This was a fortunate move. His fame had gone 
before him and he received a warm welcome. The 
Spanish governor saw what an influence the coming of 
such a man as Boone would have on the settlement of 



OLD AGE. 65 

the territory and was glad to honor him. He made 
him commander of the Femme Osage District in what 
is now the state of Missouri, and presented him with 
eight thousand five hundred acres of laud. 

He worked hard at trapping and hunting and when 
he had saved some money returned to Kentucky. The 
growth of civilization there seemed almost magical to 
the man who could remember the winter when he was 
the only white inhabitant of the vast territory. But 
curiosity had not brought the pioneer to Kentucky. 
He had come to return the money he had lost by that 
unfortunate robbery, and so relieve his mind from a 
burden that had troubled him for more than fifteen 
years. He hunted up every man to whom he was 
indebted, and having paid every dollar he owed, returned 
to Missouri with a much lighter heart and a much 
lighter pocket-book. 

He was well pleased with his new home. Its great 
forests and simple people suited him. Here he lived 
over the delights of his old Kentucky life without suf- 
fering its hardships. 

At the age of seventy-five, and until his eyesight 
failed, he was as great a hunter as in his younger days. 
Sometimes he would spend days and weeks in the woods, 
far from any settlement, and exposed to all sorts of 
danger. 

There were still many Indians in that part of the 
country, and some of them were always making trouble 



66 DANIEL BOONE. 

for the white settlers. But Boone understood them so 
well, and was so shrewd in his dealings with them, that 
they were never able to harm him. 

When in the woods, however, he was obliged to be 
very watchful. He knew how to place his beaver traps 
where the Indians could not find them; he knew how to 
conceal his own trail so that they could not follow it; 
even the little hut, in which he lived when out hunting, 
was so well hidden in some leafy thicket that no one 
could guess where to look for it. 

In the trapping of beavers, Boone took the greatest 
delight. Paddling alone in his light canoe, he explored 
the creeks and streamlets in his neighborhood, and even 
the great Missouri itself, setting his traps and gathering 
a rich harvest of furs. 

At one time, with a little negro boy twelve 
years old, he took pack-horses and made a long jour- 
ney through the woods to the country on the Osage 
River. There he built a winter camp, intending to 
hunt and trap until he had skins enough to load his 
horses. 

He had hardly laid in his supplies for the winter, 
before he was taken very sick. For weeks he lay in the 
little hut with no one to care for him but the little 
negro boy. ''Tom,'' he said, "if I die you must bury 
me under the great oak on the top of that hill. Then 
you must catch the horses, tie the blankets and skins 
on their backs, and take them home. Be sure to take 



OLD AGE. 67 

my rifle with you, too; and tell all the folks at home 
that I remembered them to the last." 

But toward spring the old man rallied and soon grew 
strong again; and on the first fine day he broke up 
camp, mounted one of his horses, and returned home; 
but he did not carry many beaver skins with him that 
time. 

So long as the Spanish and the French had control of 
the Missouri country, Boone was safe in the possession 
of his lands. But when the territory came into the 
hands of the United States, the government refused to 
recognize his claim. 

In the meantime Kentucky had become a state, and 
in his distress Boone appealed to its legislature for help. 
Glad to serve the founder of the state, the legislature had 
the matter presented to Congress. In consideration for 
his services to the country Congress granted Colonel 
Boone eight hundred and fifty acres of land. 

In December, 181 3, Boone received word of this 
gift, but the enjoyment of the good news was blighted 
by the death of his wife. Boone chose a beautiful spot 
overlooking the river for her grave and expressed a 
wish to be buried beside her. 

Boone was now a silvery-haired old man. His eyes 
were too dim to hunt ; and he spent the remainder of 
his life in peace and content with his sons and daugh- 
ters. You may be sure he was a most delightful grand- 
father and always had a story to tell the boys. 



68 



DANIEL BOONE. 



He died, in 1820, at the aj;c of eighty-five, sniTouiided 
by relatives and loving friends, and was bnried beside 
his wife. Bnt twenty-five years later the remains of 
both were removed to the cemetery of Frankfort, Ken- 
tnck)-, with groat ]>onip and ceremony. So the noble 
pioneer is at rest in the land he loved. 




BOONK'S MONUMKNT, KRAN'KrOKT, KY. 



THIi IMONEliRS. 69 

Till'; I'lONlClCRS. 

Hero once Hooiio trod— the hardy pioiiocr— 

The only white inau in the wilderness; 
Oh! how he loved alone to hunt the deer, 

Alone at eve his simple meal to dress; 
No murk upon the tree, nor print, nor traek. 
To lead liim forward, or to guide him baek; 
He roved the forest, king hy main atul might, 
And looked up to the sky and shaped his course aright. 

The mountain there, that lifts its bald, high hea<l 

Above the forest was, pereliance, his throne; 
There has he stood and marked the woods outspread 

Like a great kingdom that was all his own. 
In hunting-shirt and moccasins arrayed, 
With bearskin cap, and pouch, and needful blade. 
How carelessly he leaned njion his gun, 
That scepter of the wild that had so often won! 

Those western jjioneers an impulse felt. 

Which their less hardy sons scarce couiprelund; 

Alone, in Nature's wildest scenes they dwelt. 
Where crag and precipice and torreiit l)lend, 

And stretchetl around the wilderness, as rude 

As the red rovers of its solitude. 

Who watched their coming with a hate profouiul, 

And fought with deadly strife t'ov every inch of giouud 

To shun a greater ill sought they the wild? 

No; they left happier lauds behind them far. 
And brought the nursing mother and her child 

To share the dangers of the border war. 
The log-built cabin from the Indian barred. 
Their little boy, perchance, kept watch and ward, 
While father plowed with rifle at his back. 
Or sought the glutted foe through many a devious track. 



70 DANIEL BOONE. 

How cautiously yet fearlessly, that boy 

Would search the forest for the wild beast's lair, 
And lift his rifle with a hurried joy, 

If chauce he spied the Indian lurking there ! 
And should they bear him prisoner from the fight. 
While they are sleeping in the dead midnight 
He slips- the thongs that bind him to the tree, 
And leaving death with them, bounds home right happily. 

Before the mother, bursting through the door, 
The red man rushes where her infants rest; 

Oh, God ! he hurls them on the cabin floor, 

And she, down kneeling, clasps them to her breast. 

How he exults and revels in her woe. 

And lifts the weapon, yet delays the blow ! 

Ha ! that report ! behold, he reels, he dies ! 

And quickly to her arms the husband, father, flies. 

In the long winter eve, their cabin fast, 

The big logs blazing in the chimney wide. 
They'd hear the Indian howling, or the blast, 
And deem themselves in castellated pride. 
Then would the fearless forester disclose 
Most strange adventures with his sylvan foes, 
Of how his arts did over theirs prevail, 
And how he followed far upon their bloody trail. 

And it was happiness, they said, to stand, 

When summer smiled upon them in the wood, 

And see the little clearing there expand, 
And be the masters of the solitude. 

Danger was but excitement; and when came 

The tide of emigration, life grew tame; 

Then would they seek some unknown wild anew, 

And soon above the trees, the smoke was curling blue. 

F. W. Thomas. 



THE STORY OF 

GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 



By Katherine Beebe 




GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 

THE HERO OF THE NORTHWEST 



I. — Boyhood and Youth. 

George Rogers Clark was born in Virginia. The 
state which claims George Washington, Thomas Jeffer- 
son and Patrick Henry is proud to call him her son. 
His ancestors were Scotch and English. They settled 
in Virginia at an early day, near Charlottesville, which 
is not far from Monticello, the home and burial place of 
Thomas Jefferson. 

Jefferson was so much older than Clark that they did 
not see much of each other as boys, although they lived 
so near together. After they were men they became 
good friends. 

There were few schools in Virginia when George 
Clark was a boy, and he was not able to get much of 
an education. One of his schoolmates was James 
Madison, who afterwards became president of the United 
vStates. George's favorite studies were mathematics and 
surveying. 

When Clark was nineteen years old he joined an expe- 

73 



74 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

dition that was going to the Ohio valley. He went as 
a surveyor, and intended to take up some land, and set- 
tle in the West. The party, traveling on horseback and 
in canoes, were obliged to take great care not to be dis- 
covered by the Indians. 

Clark found his land near the place where the city of 
Wheeling, West Virginia, now stands. He built a cabin, 
and lived there for some time, hunting, fishing, im- 
proving his land, and earning money by surveying. 
He wrote to his parents that he liked this rough 
pioneer life very much. In 1773 he went with a 
party of Virginians farther down the river, towards 
Kentucky. 

Two years before the Declaration of Independence was 
signed there was a short, but hard-fought, war in the 
Ohio valley. Some friendly Shawnee Indians, and the 
family of a chief named Logan, were killed by white 
men. This caused all the border Indians to "take 
up the hatchet." Houses were burned, cattle and 
crops destroyed, men, women, and children killed, and 
many scalps taken. The Indians were finally defeated 
in battle and forced to make peace. 

This trouble has been called "Dunmore's War," 
because it was thought that Lord Dunmore, the royal 
governor of Virginia, was at the bottom of it. It was 
believed that the white men who killed the friendly 
Indians were acting under his orders. In this war 
young George Rogers Clark took a part. 



"KENTUCKI." 75 



II. "KENTUCKI. 



In i2^2j1 many settlers were emigrating to what is now 
the state of Kentucky. Among them were some of 
George Clark's friends. He decided to go with them, 
and do as he had done before, make his way by survey- 
ing, and take up land for a home. 

He wrote back to Virginia that Kentucky was a 
beautiful country, and that he was sure his father would 
join him if he could only see how rich the land was. 
Several years later his father and mother made their 
home at Mulberry Hill, near the place where the city of 
Louisville now stands. 

Clark went from one part of the new country to the 
other, often leading the backwoodsmen who served as 
Indian fighters. He soon became prominent among the 
frontiersmen. He seemed to forget that he had come to 
the new country to take up land and make money by 
surveying, for he found so much to do for the struggling 
settlements that he had no time to think of himself. 

The Indians were on the warpath most of the time, 
and there was but little powder among the settlers. 
Kentucky was so far away from Virginia that it scarcely 
seemed to be a part of it. For these reasons Clark 
determined to find out whether the mother state would 
protect her border settlements, or whether the pioneers 
would have to form a new state and take care of them- 
selves. A meeting was held in Harrodsburg in which 



76 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

the people chose George Clark and John Jones to go to 
Virginia for them. They were to find out what could 
be done for the protection of the settlements. 

Clark and Jones set out alone, traveling overland 
instead of by the river. A long and dangerous journey 
was before them. The ground was wet and muddy ; 
there were hills, mountains, and swollen streams to be 
crossed ; there were signs of hostile Indians every- 
where. 

They had not gone far before they lost one of their 
horses, and all the baggage had to be placed on the other. 
The feet of both men were often wet for days together, 
and they dared not make a fire for fear of being discovered 
by Indians. The soles of their feet became blistered, so 
much so that Clark afterwards said that he " traveled in 
more torment than he had ever before experienced." 

As the two men approached Cumberland they hoped 
to obtain relief, but on reaching the place they found it 
burned and deserted. Painfully they pushed on towards 
the next settlement, Martin's Fort, only to find that it, 
too, had been abandoned. 

The next settlement was sixty miles away. They 
could not travel any longer, for they now had what 
hunters call "scald feet " ; there was nothing to be done 
but stay where they were till help should come. 

They decided to fortify themselves in the strongest of 
the deserted cabins, burn the others, so that Indians 
could not hide in or behind them, and cure their feet 



"KENTUCKI." 77 

with the oil and ooze of oak bark. A few hogs had 
been left behind when the settlers of Martin's Fort had 
fled, and our adventurers caught and killed some of 
them. The door of the cabin they chose was found to 
be fastened. Clark climbed to the roof, knocked oflf 
part of the chimney, and dropped down inside. He 
opened the door, and both men set to work, preparing 
for defense. 

The meat was brought in ; a barrel was filled with 
water; rifles and pistols were laid out on a table. In case 
of attack Jones was to load and Clark was to fire. Wood 
and corn were added to their stores, loopholes cut in the 
walls, and doors and windows barred. 

This work occupied them till evening. As soon as 
the wind changed they meant to burn the other build- 
ings, and were just about to do so when they heard a 
horse bell. They at once prepared themselves for 
Indians, but, to their great joy, soon discovered that the 
horse belonged to white men, who had come back to 
Martin's Fort for some things that had been hidden and 
left behind. 

These white men, when they saw smoke coming from 
the chimney of the cabin, had made ready to fight 
Indians. They were as glad as Clark and Jones were to 
meet white men instead of red. 

With these friendly helpers the travelers crossed the 
mountains, but found they were too late to meet the 
Virginia Assembly that spring. They made their plans 



78 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 



to wait for the autumn meeting ; for only the Assembly 
had the power to grant the Kentuckians the help and 
protection they needed. 

Jones joined the troops then being raised to fight the 
Cherokee Indians. Clark went to Williamsburg to see 
what he could do about getting some powder. On this 
errand he went to see Governor Patrick Henry, who was 
in favor of doing all that was possible to assist the fron- 
tiersmen. Clark, nevertheless, had a great deal of trouble 
getting the powder they so sorely needed. He wrote to 
those in authority that if the Kentucky 
country belonged to Virginia it was to 
her interest to protect it ; that if it was 
not worth protecting, it was not worth 
claiming ; that if Virginia did not 
send relief the settlers must seek help 
elsewhere, or form an independent 
state. 

After much anxiety and long delay 
Clark received an order for five hundred pounds of 
powder. He at once wrote to Kentucky for men to 
take it down the Ohio River. This letter was lost, 
as letters often were in those days, for the messenger 
was either killed or captured by the Indians. 

In the autumn, when the Assembly met, Clark and 
Jones presented the claims of the Kentucky settlements. 
After considerable difficulty and disappointment they 
had the satisfaction of knowing that their chosen home 




PATRICK HENRY. 



"KENTUCKI. " 



79 



was in the " County of Kentucki," and under the pro- 
tection of Virginia. 

Hearing nothing from home, they decided that they 
must take the powder down the river themselves. It 
was late in the fall before they were able to start; but, 
late or not, they felt that it ought to reach Kentucky 
as soon as possible, for they knew that the Indians 
would be again on the warpath as soon as winter was 
over. 

With seven rnen they set out on their journey down 
the Ohio. They were soon discovered and pursued by 
their savage foes, and were finally obliged to hide the 
powder in four or five places along the river bank. 
They ran the boat some miles farther down stream, set 
it adrift, and then started across the country towards 
Harrodsburg, where Clark intended to get a larger force 
of men to go back for the powder. On the way he met 
four explorers, who told him that his friend John Todd, 
with a number of men, was in the vicinity. This 
decided Clark to push on to Harrodsburg with two men, 
leaving Jones and the others to await the party he ex- 
pected to send. 

Soon after Clark had gone Todd, with ten men, met 
Jones and his little band. The two parties concluded 
not to wait for the Harrodsburg men, but to go after the 
powder themselves. They had not gone far before they 
met a large body of Indians. A short and fierce battle 
was fought, which went hard with the white men. 



/ 



8o GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

Jones and several others were killed, and the rest were 
taken prisoners; but these unfortunate men did not let 
the Indians know where the powder was hidden. A 
little later the men sent by Clark brought it safely to the 
settlements. 



III. — The Conquest of Illinois. 

About this time, a large number of Indians appeared 
suddenly near Harrodsburg. They shot at some boys 
who were playing in the woods, and captured one of 
them. The others made their escape and gave the 
alarm. 

A party of men at once set out in pursuit, but they did 
not find the Indians. This was fortunate for the settlers, 
for the savages so far outnumbered the white men that 
the latter would certainly have been defeated, and in 
those troublous times the loss of even one man was a 
serious thing. 

Part of the town had been deserted as soon as the news 
was brought in by the boys. Men, women, and children 
left their homes to take refuge in the fort. It was well 
they did so in time, for, in the early morning, the 
Indians again appeared and set fire to the empty houses. 
Again the brave pioneers set out to attack their foes, but 
they were soon obliged to retreat. 

This was the opening of another Indian war. Many 
men, women, and children were killed; prisoners were 



THE CONQUEST OF ILLINOIS. 8l 

taken and tortured; homes were burned, and cattle and 
crops destroyed on every side. It seemed for a time as 
if Kentucky must become again the Indian hunting 
ground which it had been before the sturdy backwoods- 
men determined to make it their home. 

Virginia's new county was indeed in a sad plight. It 
was hundreds of miles from the mother state, and over- 
run with savages. The settlers were forced to spend 
most of the time defending the forts, tending the 
wounded, and burying the dead. They could raise no 
crops, and so had to depend almost entirely on the hunt- 
ers for food. These men were so often killed or cap- 
tured by the Indians that it was only by taking the 
utmost care that they were able to do their work. They 
were obliged to set out before daylight, that they might 
not be seen by their watchful foes, and to remain away 
until dark for the same reason. 

England and America being at war, the British at 
Detroit were urging the Indians to attack the frontier 
settlements. Agents were sent among the tribes with 
promises and presents. Scalps of American men, 
women, and children were bought and paid for. Bitter 
indeed was the feeling in Kentucky against the English 
ofhcers who so abused their power, and many were the 
backwoodsmen who longed for revenge. Especially 
was this true of those whose wives, children, or friends 
had been killed or captured. 

The situation grrew worse as the season advanced. 



82 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

Clark began to fear that the Kentiickians would have to 
surrender entirely and be carried away to Detroit, to 
become the prisoners of the British. A ray of hope 
arrived with Captain John Bowman, who was sent from 
Virginia with a company of men. Clark nevertheless 
knew that he himself must go to war seriously if his 
country was to be saved. The people were looking to 
him for help, and he therefore decided to go to Virginia 
and tell their sad story there. 

He declared that unless something was done at once, 
Kentucky would be lost ; that if that came to pass, not 
only would there be no more supplies of food and furs 
sent from the west, but Virginia would have to send 
extra troops to guard her borders. This work Ken- 
tucky was now doing as best she could. 

Clark knew that the British commanders of the forts 
in Illinois and at Detroit were inciting the Indians against 
the Americans. He wished to march to these posts, and, 
by capturing them, put an end to English influence 
among the Indian tribes. He had already sent spies 
into the Illinois country, and had learned from them the 
condition of the fort at Kaskaskia, and of the French 
towns near by. He had been informed that the British 
were not expecting an attack, and that they were 
influencing the French people against the Americans. 
The French had always had great influence with the 
Indians, hence Clark hoped that if he took the Illinois 
towns he would make friends of them, and that they, in 



THE CONQUEST OF ILLINOIS. 83 

their turn, would help him to put an end to the horrible 
border warfare then going on. 

After explaining all these things, Clark asked Gov- 
ernor Henry for troops, that he might carry out his 
plan. The governor gave him permission to raise the 
companies he needed, and declared himself much pleased 
with Clark's idea. 

Colonel Clark soon found that he had set himself a 
hard task. It was very difficult to find men who were 
not needed at home or had not already enlisted in their 
country's service. He managed to secure a promise 
from the government that three hundred acres of land 
in the conquered territory should be given to each man 
who helped to win it. This promise, which was after- 
wards fulfilled, was of great assistance to him, and he 
finally succeeded in recruiting a number of men. 

The plan of capturing the Illinois towns was, for a 
time, kept secret. The men supposed that they were 
merely going to protect the Kentucky border. 

When Clark started down the Ohio River he had about 
one hundred and seventy-five men, instead of the five 
hundred he had hoped to have. The first stopping 
place was Corn Island, opposite the place where Louis- 
ville now stands, which was then called the Falls of the 
Ohio. This island no longer exists ; it was gradually 
swept away by the swift current of the river. 

At the time of Clark's landing it was about seventy 
acres in extent. Some twenty families had come with 



84 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK, 

him and his troops, and they decided to settle on the 
island. Clark divided the land among them, that each 
man might have his own garden, and detailed a few of 
his soldiers for their protection. 

The time had now come to reveal to the men the true 
object of the expedition. Most of them were willing 
and anxious to follow their brave leader. On the 
twenty-fourth of June, 1778, they left Corn Island for 
Kaskaskia. 

At the very moment of departure the sun was dark- 
ened by an eclipse, which must have greatly astonished 
them all. They regarded it as a good omen, however, 
and set off with cheers and rejoicings. The boats were 
rowed down the fiver, the rowers working in relays 
day and night, to a point about three miles below the 
mouth of the Tennessee, Near the place where Fort 
Massac, an old French outpost, had once stood, the party 
landed. 

Before the landing took place, a canoe containing a 
party of hunters was stopped. Clark was glad to learn 
from these men that they had just come from Kaskaskia. 
They told him that the fort there was in good condition 
and well defended, but that no one thought the Ameri- 
cans would really attack it. They were sure both fort 
aud town would be easily captured if taken by surprise. 
They said that if the apjDroach of the Americans was 
discovered the French people of the town would take 
sides with the English, for the English officers had told 



THE CONQUEST OF ILLINOIS. 



85 



the townsfolk such terrible stories about the Americau 
backwoodsmen that they were much afraid of them. 

The hunters offered to join Clark's forces, and one of 
them said he would act as guide from the river to Kas- 
kaskia. This offer was thankfully accepted; the land- 




ing was made; 
the boats were 
hidden, and the 
dered forward, 
of the march 
swampy land; 



men were or- 
The first part 
was through 
the rest of the 



way was over the open prairie. By looking at the map, 
you can see the course of the march from Fort Massac. 
On the third day the guide appeared to be confused, 
and said he had lost his way. This immediately aroused 
the suspicions of both Colonel Clark and his men. 
They began to fear that they were being led into a trap 



86 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

and that they might be betrayed into the hands of the 
enemy. Clark said it was very strange that a man who 
knew his way perfectly three days before should now be 
in doubt of it. He did not think it possible for any one 
to go from Kaskaskia to the river without learning the 
route well. 

The guide seemed very uncomfortable, and the 
soldiers grew more and more angry. He was finally 
told that unless he found the trail he would be shot. 
He begged to be allowed to go to a certain place a little 
distance away, from which he was sure he could find out 
where they were. Some of Clark's men were sent with 
him, and he soon proved his words true. He dis- 
covered the landmarks he had hoped to find, and was 
once more sure of his way. He had really been lost 
and bewildered, and the suspicions against him were 
unfounded. 

On the evening of July fourth the Americans reached 
Kaskaskia. They halted about three quarters of a mile 
from town, then cautiously approached a house on the 
river bank. The French family living in it were taken 
prisoners, and boats were secured in which the troops 
crossed to the other side after dark. Colonel Clark, 
with part of his men, went to the fort; the rest were 
sent to take possession of the town. 

There was a dance at the fort that night, at which 
most of the British officers and many of the towns- 
people were present. The American soldiers placed 



THE CONQUEST OF ILLINOIS. 8/ 

themselves on guard in silence, and in the middle of the 
gayety Clark stepped just inside the door. He stood 
there, in his rough backwoodsman's dress, surveying 
the scene with a grim smile. No one noticed the 
stranger at the door, until an Indian, who was sitting 
on the floor, chanced to look that way. He eyed Clark 
closely for a moment, and then sprang to his feet with 
a yell. Immediately there was great confusion and 
alarm. 

"There is no danger," said the American quietly. 
"Go on wath your fun. Only remember that you are 
now dancing under the flag of Virginia, and not that of 
England." 

In a very short time the town was in the possession 
of the Americans. The commander of the fort, Philip 
Rocheblave, was captured in his bed. 

Clark learned that many of the townspeople were 
inclined to be friendly to the Americans, but that others 
had been told such terrible stories of their fierceness and 
cruelty that they were greatly frightened to find them- 
selves in their power. He decided to appear very severe 
at first, in order to surprise the people more completely 
by his kindness later on. 

When the priest and several of the leading French 
citizens came to talk to Colonel Clark and his officers 
they must have thought them little better than savages. 
Much of their clothing had been left with the boats, and 
what they had on had been badly torn by bushes and 



88 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

briars on the inarch. Their faces were dirty, their hair 
was unkempt, and they were tired and worn for want of 
food and rest. 

Each party looked at the other in silence for a time; 
then one of the Frenchmen spoke. He said he knew 
that the townspeople must be carried away from their 
homes as prisoners, and he begged that they might be 
allowed to meet in the church to ^ake leave of each 
other. 

"You may do as you please about going to the 
church," said Colonel Clark sternly, "but let no one 
dare attempt to escape from the town." 

The frightened citizens flocked to the church, aTid 
men were again sent to the American commander. They 
humbly thanked him for permitting them to meet 
together; they begged that when the prisoners were 
taken away the families might not be separated; they 
asked that the women and children be allowed to keep 
some food and clothing. 

"Do you think that you are dealing with Indians?" 
asked Colonel Clark abruptly. "Do you think Amer- 
icans war against women and children ? We came to 
prevent suffering, not to cause it !" 

He then went on to explain that because the English 
commander was inciting the Indians to murder their 
wives, children, and friends, the Americans had marched 
against Kaskaskia; that all they wanted was to put an 
end to Indian wars; that the king of France was now 



COLONEL CLARK AND THE INDIANS. 89 

the friend of the colonies; that their church should not 
be interfered with; that no property should be destroyed 
and no prisoners taken. He told the story of the 
trouble between England and America which had led to 
the war of the Revolution, and proved to them that what 
the English had been telling them of the Americans 
was untrue. 

"You may go back to your homes in peace and 
safety," said he. 

Great was the joy of the Kaskaskians on hearing 
these words. They declared that they had been misled 
and deceived; that they were glad to be friends v/ith the 
Americans, and that they would loyally serve them. 

When affairs at Kaskaskia were well settled, Colonel 
Clark sent Captain Bowman, with a party of men, to the 
neighboring town of Cahokia. This place, like Kas- 
kaskia, was surprised and taken. The same story that 
was made known in one town was told in the other, and 
with the same result — the French were glad to become 
the friends and allies of the Americans. The town of 
Prairie du Rocher and the settlement at Fort Chartres 
were also taken with little trouble to the Americans. 



IV. — Colonel Clark and the Indians. 
When the Indians in and about Kaskaskia realized 
that the Americans were in control they quickly disap- 
peared. Colonel Clark was very anxious to gain an 



90 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 



influence over these Indians, and, with that end in view, 
managed to get a report spread among them that more 
troops were expected to join those already in Illinois. 

He was wise enough 
to send no direct mes- 
sage to the savages. 
He wished them to 
think that he did not 
care where they were or 
what they did. 

The town of Vin- 
cennes, on the Wabash 
River, was a larger and 
more important post 
than Kaskaskia. It was 
necessary to obtain pos- 
session of it, in order to 
complete the conquest 
of the Illinois country. 
Among the leading cit- 
izens of Kaskaskia was 
Father Gibault, the 
Catholic priest, who 
had become the firm 
friend of Colonel Clark 
and the American 
cause. He assured Clark that the French of Vincennes 
would do as the people of Kaskaskia, Cahokia, Prairie 




THE FRENCH SETTLEMENTS ON THE 
MISSISSIPPI. 



COLONEL CLARK AND THE INDIANS. 9I 

du Roclier, and Fort Chartres had done, if they only 
knew the true state of affairs. 

He offered to go and tell them the real reason for the 
quarrel between England and America, for he was sure 
they had been as much deceived and misled as the Kas- 
kasians had been. He said that he would make known 
the fact that the French king was now the friend of 
the Americans, and that he would tell how Colonel Clark 
treated those whom he conquered. He believed that 
when once these facts were known the flag of Virginia 
would be raised over Vincennes. 

This proved to be the case. Father Gibault, accom- 
panied by Captain Helm and a small party of men, 
successfully performed his mission, yht people of Vin- 
cennes declared themselves the friends of the Americans. 
Fort Sackville at that place was surrendered, and Cap- 
tain Helm took command of it with one American sol- 
dier and some Frenchmen as a garrison. 

The Indians around Vincennes were greatly surprised 
when the English flag was hauled down and Virginia's 
colors hoisted in its place. The French told the Indians 
that their Father, the king of France, had joined forces 
with the '' L/Ong Knives," as the Americans were called 
by their savage foes, and advised them to make peace, 
lest they be destroyed. This the Indians heard on 
every side, and it made a deep impression on them. 

One of the most powerful chiefs was called Tobacco's 
Son, and also The-Grand-Door-to-the-Wabash. Clark 



gZ GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

wished to make friends with this chief, and sent him 
his compliments by Father Gibault. He also sent him 
a speech and a belt by Captain Helm. The chief had 
said in reply that now, since he understood the situation, 
he would not only declare friendship with the Long 
Knives himself, but he would advise the other Wabash 
Indians to make peace at once. This was exactly what 
Clark wanted. 

As the news of these events spread, many Indians 
came to Cahokia to make treaties of peace. The 
English at Detroit became greatly alarmed, and kept 
their agents busy among the Indian villages, making 
presents and speeches. The French, however, worked 
among the tribes in the interest of their new friends. 

Colonel Clark had long been of the opinion that it 
was a mistake to make friends with treacherous savages 
by giving them presents. He felt that sirch a course 
made the Indians think the white men afraid of them. 
He made up his mind not to give those with whom he 
treated the least reason for believing that he feared 
them. Several chiefs asked him for a council, to which 
he consented. Indian councils were always conducted 
with much ceremony, and took a great deal of time. 
Clark made a point of being even more ceremonious 
than the Indians themselves, and, on this occasion, let 
one of them make the opening speech. 

The chief laid the blame of all the border warfare on 
the English, whose "bad birds," as he called the agents, 



COLONEL CLARK AND THE INDIANS. 93 

had been flying among the tribes. At the end of the 
speech many Indians threw down the flags and war belts 
sent them by the British, and stamped on them. 

" I will think over what you have said," said Colonel 
Clark, " and tell you to-morrow whether the Long 
Knives will forgive you or destroy you." 

The next day the chief of the Long Knives made his 
speech. "Men and warriors," said he sternly, "listen 
to my words. I am a warrior, not a counselor. I hold 
war in my right hand and peace in my left. I am sent 
by the Council of the Long Knives to take possession 
of all the towns owned by the English, and to watch 
the red men. I will make bloody the paths of those 
who stop the way to the river. I will open such paths 
for those who are friends, that women and children may 
walk in them." 

At the close of the speech he offered a peace belt and 
a war belt. 

" Take whichever you please," said he. " If you 
choose the war belt you may go back in safety to your 
English friends, and make ready to fight. If you 
choose the peace belt you shall be the friends of the 
Long Knives and of the French. If you do not keep 
faith, when once you give your word, you shall be 
destroyed." 

The Indians were then dismissed to think over what 
the white chief had said. 

They came together again on the next day. Colonel 



94 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

Clark seated himself at a table with great dignity, his 
officers and the leading citizens of the town standing 
near by. The Indians solemnly kindled a fire. Three 
chiefs approached Colonel Clark, one carrying a peace 
belt, one a peace pipe, and the other fire with which 
to light it. Here Colonel Clark spoke. 

" You ought to be thankful to the Great Spirit who 
has opened your eyes and hearts to the truth ! " said he. 

"The Long Knives do not speak like any other 
people," answered a chief. "We believe you speak the 
truth, and that the English have deceived us. Some of 
our old men told us this long ago. We will throw the 
tomahawk into the river. We will also send news to 
our friends of the good talk we have heard." 

The pipe of peace was then smoked by red men 
and white, and a general handshaking followed. 

Many councils similar to this one were held in 
Cahokia. Colonel Clark was occupied for weeks mak- 
ing and listening to speeches. One by one the tribes 
made peace until all in the neighborhood of the Illinois 
towns might fairly be counted friendly. 



v.- — ^Indian Treaties. 

Colonel Clark wished to secure peace with as many 
tribes as possible, not only that the Indian war might 
be brought to an end, but also because he wished to 




GEORGE ROGERS CLARK "IN COUNCIL, WITH THE INDIANS." 
From the painting in the Illinois State House. 



96 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

keep the new country he had won from being- re-taken 
by the English. He had such a small force, and the 
Indians were so numerous, that he knew he would be in 
great danger if they did not come over to the American 
side. There were often hundreds of savages gathered 
together in Cahokia, and Colonel Clark confessed, in a 
letter, that he was frequently uneasy lest they should 
suddenly decide to unite against the conquerors of 
Illinois. The Indians, however, were never allowed to 
discover the least sign of anxiety. Colonel Clark con- 
tinued to act as though he cared little whether they 
chose peace or war, but he was nevertheless doing 
everything in his power to bring about treaties of 
peace. 

He interested himself in a chief called Black Bird, who 
was a leader among the Lake Michigan tribes. Black 
Bird had been in St. Louis when Clark took Kaskaskia 
and the other Illinois towns. As soon as he heard the 
news he fled, fearing that the Long Knives would at 
once take vengeance on him. On the way north he 
and his braves met a party of traders, to whom they 
told the story of Clark's conquest. The traders tried to 
persuade the Indians to go back. 

"The Long Knives will think you are afraid of 
them," they said. 

" My family is sick," replied Black Bird; " I will go 
in the spring. I will write to the chief of the Long 
Knives at Kaskaskia." 



INDIAN TREATIES. 97 

Black Bird did write, and Colonel Clark answered the 
letter. He was most anxious to win over this chief, 
who had great influence among the lake Indians. He 
paid one of his men two hundred dollars to visit Black 
Bird at St. Joseph. This man invited the chief to visit 
Clark at Cahokia. He accepted the invitation, and 
arrived with eight of his warriors. Seeing preparations 
for the usual Indian ceremonies, he at once sent word 
to Clark that such forms would be unnecessary between 
them, as they would transact their business like white 
men. When he met Colonel Clark he tried to behave 
like a very polite gentleman, and had himself introduced 
by one of the French citizens. 

"I have for some time wanted a council with some 
chief of the Long Knives," said he. " I have grown 
doubtful of the English, and there are some matters 
which I should like to have explained." 

He then asked such intelligent questions that Clark 
had to tell him the whole history of the American 
colonies, from the time of Columbus down to that day. 

"The English are afraid of the Long Knives," said 
Black Bird. " I should not blame you if you destroyed 
all the Indians who are unfriendly. I will be a friend 
to you. I will make my people your friends as soon as 
my young men come back from the warpaths they now 
tread. I will make the other lake tribes your friends 
also." 

" I am glad to hear this," answered Colonel Clark. " I 



98 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

will write the great chiefs of the Long Knives that Black 
Bird has become their friend." 

Black Bird kept his word. He not only became the 
friend of the Americans, but used his influence among 
the lake tribes for their cause, as he had said he would. 

Clark's next work was with a warrior named Big 
Gate. This chief, when a boy, had been with the great 
Pontiac at the siege of Detroit. The Indian boy had 
shot a white man who was standing at the gate of the 
fort. From that time he had borne the name of Big Gate. 

He heard the news from Illinois and came, with sev- 
eral followers, to see Colonel Clark. He had the 
audacity to come in full war dress, wearing about his 
neck the bloody belt he had received from the English. 
For several days he attended the councils which Clark 
was then holding with various chiefs and their tribes. 
He always sat in front, but said nothing. Clark had 
found out all about him, but, for a time, paid him no 
attention. He finally told him, however, that he knew 
who he was, but that, as public business came before 
private, Big Gate must excuse him if he did not speak 
with him till later. 

"When white warriors talk with their enemies," 
said Colonel Clark, "each treats the other with the 
greatest respect. Each honors the other according to 
his exploits. I hope that you will remain with us a few 
days, and that you will dine with me and my officers 
this evening." 



INDIAN TREATIES. 99 

This polite speech made Big Gate very nervous. He 
tried to refuse the invitation, but Clark would not take 
no for an answer. He showed the discomfited chief so 
much honor, and treated him with such great ceremony, 
that he at last became very much excited. He ran to 
the middle of the room and took off his war belt. He 
threw this, and an English flag which he carried, to 
the floor. He cast off his other garments one by 
one, until he had almost nothing on. Then he made a 
speech. 

" I am a warrior, " he declared. "I have delighted 
in war from my youth. The English have lied to me. 
I thought the Long Knives in the wrong. I have 
fought against them three times, and was ready to go 
on the warpath again. I thought I would come to see 
what kind of people they are. I know now that 
they are in the right. I will no longer be on the 
wrong side," 

Big Gate then struck himself violently on the chest, 
saying that he was now one of the Long Knives. He 
began to shake hands all around, in a way that made 
great fun for the American officers. The soldiers threw 
his old clothes away, and one of the officers gave him a 
fine new suit. This delighted him greatly. 

That evening he dined with Colonel Clark and his 
officers in great state. After the dinner he had a long 
talk with the American commander, in which he gave 
his new friend the news from Detroit. In his zeal for 



lOO GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

the American cause he offered to go there at once and 
get either a scalp or a prisoner. He meant in this way 
to show his good will toward his white brothers. 

" I do not want the Indians to fight for me," said 
Colonel Clark. "I wish them only to look on. The 
Long Knives do their own fighting. '^ 

Big Gate went away soon after this, and as he left 
town some of the officers sainted him with pistol shots. 
This pleased him very much, and he departed mnch 
impressed by the power and the politeness of the Long 
Knives. He soon had an opportnnity to show his 
friendship for them. On his way home he fell in with 
a party of traders. Thinking to please the Indians, 
these men told them that they were English. To their 
astonishment Big Gate said : 

" I am now a captain of the Long Knives. I shall 
take yon back to Cahokia as my prisoners." 

" Now that we know yon to be friends," said one of 
the traders, "we will tell yon the trnth. We are run- 
ning away from the English to join the Long Knives." 

"I do not believe yon," answered the chief. "I 
shall keep yon prisoners." 

The unfortunate traders were bound, and forced to go 
with the Indians. A party of Americans, however, soon 
came by on their way to Cahokia. These men took 
charge of the prisoners, promising to deliver them safely 
into Clark's hands. This they did, but we are not told 
whether they proved to be friends or foes. 



VINCENNES. lOI 

Colonel Clark had now concluded peace with most of 
the tribes within reach. Many came from long dis- 
tances to declare their friendship. Indian promises, 
however, were easily broken, and Clark was still 
anxious and troubled. 



VI. — ViNCKNNKS. 



As winter approached Colonel Clark became even 
more disturbed than he had been during- the suniuier 
and early autumn. No news had come from Virginia, 
and this made him less and less hopeful of reinforcement. 
He had been receiving a letter from Vincennes every 
fortnight, and now even this failed to arrive. In great 
anxiety he sent out scouts. They did not return. For 
a time he waited in suspense; then he set out from 
Kaskaskia for Cahokia, that he might counsel with 
Ca{)tain Bowman. 

On the way footmarks of seven or eight men were dis- 
covered, but Clark thought little of the circumstance. 
He went on to Prairie du Rocher, twelve miles from 
Kaskaskia, where he expected to remain over night. 
There he found a dance in progress, and both he and his 
men joined in the festivity. In the midst of it a mes- 
senger arrived with news for Colonel Clark. 

" Eight hundred white men and Indians are within a 
few miles of Kaskaskia ! " he declared. " They intend 
to attack the fort to-night ! " 



I02 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

The scene of gayety was at once changed to one of 
the wildest excitement and alarm. The French well 
knew that if Kaskaskia was taken, Prairie du Rocher and 
Cahokia wonld also fall into the hands of the enemy. 
They feared that, in that case, they would be severely 
punished for having gone over to the American side. 

Some of Clark's friends urged him to seek safety 
across the Mississippi among the Spaniards. He 
laughed at the very thought, and began to prepare to go 
back to Kaskaskia. He ordered his men to dress like 
hunters, that they might mingle unrecognized with 
the English and Indians, who would probably be 
attacking the fort when they arrived. He hoped that 
he and his men, so disguised, might find some way to 
get into the fort. He prepared a message for Captain 
Bowman which instructed him to get together all the 
men he could and come at once from Cahokia to 
Kaskaskia. 

"Take the best horse in town !" said Colonel Clark 
to the man chosen to carry this message. " Ride until 
it can go no further, then make the rest of the way on 
foot!" 

He and his men set out in hot haste for the town they 
had so lately left. On reaching it they found that no 
enemy had yet appeared. The fort had been care- 
fully prepared for an attack, but Clark decided that 
more provisions were necessary. The French citizens 
were afraid to supply him, fearing punishment if the 



VINCENNES. 



103 



English, after taking the town, should learn that they 
had helped provision the fort. There was no time for 
the discussion of this matter, Clark acted with a 
soldier's promptness. He sent out word that he was 
going to destroy all provisions and stores in the town, to 
keep them from falling into the enemy's hands. In 
proof of his words he set fire to a barn full of grain, 
which was near the fort. The citizens then made haste 
to bring in all the supplies that were wanted. 
• Clark did not venture to ask them to fight with him 
against the English, for he was sure they would be 
afraid to do so. He had to rely on his own men, and 
those of Captain Bowman, who arrived the next day. 

The whole alarm, however, proved to be a false one. 
It was found that the army of eight hundred English 
and Indians was only a small party sent out to capture 
Colonel Clark, and that they had gone away. The 
leaders of the party had given some negroes, who were 
working on the river bank, the message which reached 
Clark at Prairie du Rocher. They knew that he would 
at once prepare for defense, and that they, in the mean- 
time, could get safely away. 

Soon after this another startling message was brought 
to Kaskaskia. A man by the name of Vigo, just arrived 
from Vincennes, told Clark that General Hamilton of 
Detroit, with a party of regulars, volunteers, and 
Indians to the number of several hundred, had captured 
Vincennes; that he had sent some of his soldiers to 



I04 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

patrol the Ohio River, disbanded others, and settled 
down in Fort Sackville for the winter. It was Hamil- 
ton's intention to drive Clark out of Illinois in the 
spring, and then to fall on the Kentucky settlements. 

"If I don't take Hamilton, he will take me!" said 
Colonel Clark, who, in spite of his usual brave cheerful- 
ness, knew that his situation was desperate. 

" We must attack at once," said he. " If we are suc- 
cessful both Illinois and Kentucky will be saved. If 
we fail we shall be no worse off than we are now." 

Preparations for war immediately began. The whole 
Illinois country was aroused; every one gave what help 
he could; volunteers were much praised and encouraged. 
A large Mississippi River boat was purchased, loaded 
with stores and cannon, and manned by forty-five 
soldiers under Captain John Rogers. The IVilliiig^ as 
she was called, was to go to a point a few miles below 
Vincennes and wait there for the land forces under 
Colonel Clark. On the fourth of February, she set off 
on her voyage down the river. 

In the meantime a company of volunteers arrived 
from Cahokia, and another had been formed in Kas- 
kaskia. By the fifth all was in readiness; good Father 
Gibault, ever the friend of the Americans, addressed 
the troops and gave them his blessing. There were 
upwards of a hundred and seventy men in the little 
army which set out from Kaskaskia followed by the 
prayers and well-wishes of those who remained behind. 



THROUGH THE "DROWNED LANDS. I05 



VII. — Through the " Drownkd Lands." 

Through rain, mud, and pools of standing water 
George Rogers Clark's gallant followers started to trav- 
erse what is now the state of Illinois.* The first stream 
was crossed by means of trees felled for the purpose. 
Beyond this river the road stretched away over a partly 
submerged plain. Clark was anxious to keep up the 
spirits and courage of his men, and, with that end in 
view, planned that the evenings should be times of 
feasting and merry-making. Each day one company 
was supplied with horses, and given permission to hunt 
along the line of march. The men at night prepared 
the game they were able to secure, and invited their 
comrades to share it with them. Many buffaloes, some 
deer, and water-fowl, in this way supplemented the pro- 
visions carried by the packhorses. 

This diversion helped the men along their toilsome 
way until they reached the Little Wabash River. Clark 
acted as if he were enjoying himself, and indeed he 
was filled with satisfaction as he realized that the 
farther they advanced the more impossible it became to 
retreat. Between the Little Wabash and the next river 
all the country was under water. Instead of two dis- 
tinct streams, a large body of water, five miles in width, 
was to be crossed. Although much troubled by this 

'For the route across Illinois, see map, p. 85. 



I06 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

difficulty, Clark laughed at it among his men, and at 
once set them to work building a canoe. As soon as it 
was completed a number of soldiers were sent in it to find 
a camping place on the farther side. They found a bit 
of ground, about half an acre in extent, toward which 
the army proceeded to move. The channel of the first 
river was about thirty yards wide and very deep. By 
means of the canoe a scaffold was built on the farther 
bank, to which the baggage was ferried. The horses 
swam across and were reloaded, while the men were 
brought over in the boat. 

They marched through the water which covered the 
land between the two rivers, being sometimes submerged 
to their armpits. The few who were weak or ailing 
were put into the canoe. The second river was crossed 
as the first had been, and the piece of rising ground 
reached on which they were to encamp. In spite of 
these hardships the soldiers were in great spirits, and 
indulged in much laughing and joking at one another's 
expense. 

During the day a boy, whom Clark afterwards called 
"a little antic drummer," made great fun for the others 
by floating on his drum. The men were sure now that 
nothing could stop them. They felt ready for any 
hardship or difficulty which might present itself and 
talked together of marching on to Detroit as soon as 
they had taken Vincennes. 

All this gave their leader great satisfaction, though 



THROUGH THE "DROWNED LANDS." lOJ 

he was far from sharing their confidence of easy victory. 
On and on he led his little band, through rain, mud, 
and water. Hunting was no longer possible, and pro- 
visions began to run short. Many streams and creeks 
had to be crossed, some of them very deep, which of 
course meant much hard work for the soldiers. On and 
on they marched, the country becoming worse as they 
approached the Wabash. 

During a halt Captain Kennedy and three men were 
sent out in the canoe with orders to search for and cap- 
ture boats. This was on the seventeenth of February. 
All day the army waded through water, and it was 
eight o'clock at night before a spot was found on which 
a camp could be made. The place at last selected was 
far from dry, as it was a piece of ground " from which 
the water was falling." Here the men spent a miser- 
able night, cold, wet, and hungry. In the morning 
Kennedy returned, having met with no success in his 
quest for boats. 

The army was now near enough to Vincennes to hear 
the sunrise gun from the fort. By two o'clock that 
afternoon they found themselves on the bank of the 
Wabash River, but unable to cross. Rafts were built 
and men again sent out to seek for boats. They spent 
a day and a night in the water, finding neither boats 
nor dry land. 

The situation was now desperate, as the men were 
almost starving. They had had nothing to eat for two 



I08 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

days, and in consequence became mnch cast down and 
discouraged. Some of the volunteers even began to 
talk of going back. Clark laughed at them, and told 
, them to go out and try to find a deer. They obeyed his 
order, and succeeded in killing one, to the great delight 
of their hungry comrades. Clark set other men to 
making canoes. Later a boat containing five French- 
men was captured as it came down the river. These 
men told Clark that the British in Vincennes as yet 
knew nothing of his approach. 

Early on the twenty-first the work of ferrying the 
men across to a little hill was begun. Beyond this hill 
was another stretch of flooded prairie. Once there, 
there was nothing to do but go on; and on they went, 
sometimes in water up to their necks. They had hoped 
to reach Vincennes that night, but found it impossible, 
being obliged to halt on the first available piece of 
rising ground. They had traveled through the water, 
and in the rain, without food, all day, but on the morn- 
ing of the twenty-second again plunged into the flood 
on the forward march. They advanced only three 
miles during the whole day. Once more they encamped, 
and once more marched on through the "drowned 
lands." At one o'clock, on the twenty-third, they found 
themselves in sight of Vincennes. 

At one stage of their terrible journey, the water 
became deeper and deeper as they went on. Clark 
passed back word that it was growing shallower, and 



THROUGH THE "DROWNED LANDS." IO9 

the men pressed forward. When almost in despair him- 
self it really became less deep, and he sent back a call 
that woods were just ahead. This encouraged the men 
to fresh exertions, as they hoped to find solid ground 
under their feet when once among the trees. Here also 
the ground was under water, but progress became 
easier, as they could help themselves along by trees, 
logs, and bushes. 

At one place, after a long struggle through water 
deeper than usual, the men were so exhausted on reach- 
ing the rising ground that many of them fell at the 
water's edge, and had to be dragged to places of safety. 
Great fires were built, but some soldiers could only be 
revived by being walked briskly up and down between 
two stronger ones. It was here that a canoe, full of 
corn, tallow, and buffalo meat, in charge of some squaws, 
was captured. From these supplies great kettles of 
soup were made for the famished men. 

Clark at one time felt obliged to use another and a 
sterner method of urging his men forward than any of 
those that have been mentioned. Captain Bowman, 
with twenty-five picked men, was ordered to keep in the 
rear and shoot any man who should attempt to desert. 
When the soldiers heard this order given they cheered 
their commander, and said among themselves that he 
was doing right. 

In spite of all these hardships, as the army paused on 
the elevation from which they could see Fort Sackville, 



no GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

their courage revived, so that they were quite ready to 
march on that night and capture the town they had 
toiled so hard to reach. 



VIII. — The Capture of Fort Sackville. 

The country between the hill, where the army had 
halted, and the town of Vincennes, was rolling prairie. 
The lowest ground was covered with pools of water, 
which were alive with ducks. Several hunters on 
horseback could be seen, and Colonel Clark sent a party 
of his young volunteers in pursuit of them. One was 
captured and brought before the American commander, 
who questioned him closely. The prisoner said that the 
English had on that day completed the repairs on the 
fort, and that there were many Indians in town. He 
thought that counting both white men and red there 
were upwards of six hundred men in Vincennes. 

Clark had hoped to add The JF/7//;/^'^ crew of fifty 
to his own one hundred and seventy men, but as yet 
nothing had been heard of her. He was much encour- 
aged by the fact that the French citizens wished the 
Americans well. He was also glad to learn that the 
Indian chief, Tobacco's Son, had, only a few days 
before, declared himself the friend of the Long Knives, 
and this too in council with the British. 

Clark knew that the presence of his army must soon 



THE CAPTURE OF FORT SACKVILLE. 



Ill 



be discovered, and so he sent a letter to tlie townspeople, 
telling them that he meant to take the fort that night; 
that all who were friends of the English must join them 
in the fort, or take their chances outside; that all who 
favored the Americans must prove it by keeping indoors. 
This letter was so worded as to lead the people to believe 



-<^-^ 







FORT SACKVILLE. 



that the army was from Kentucky. Messages were sent 
to certain citizens in the names of well-known Ken- 
tucky men. The soldiers were instructed to talk as if 
they numbered at least a thousand. 

As the bearer of the letter entered Vincennes, Clark 
and his officers watched him through their field glasses. 
Althougli there was soon a great stir in the town, the 



112 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

fort remained quiet. Clark concluded that the English 
knew of his approach and were prepared for defense. 
This, however, was not the case. They were celebrat- 
ing the completion of the repairs, with feasting and 
games, and were ignorant of the presence of an enemy. 

Colonel Clark spoke to his men of the great impor- 
tance of obeying orders implicitly. The men responded 
with cheers, and made ready to follow their brave com- 
mander wherever he should lead them. As the little 
army moved slowly forward it marched, countermarched, 
and displayed banners in such a way as to make it appear 
from a distance that many hundred men were advancing. 
Keeping under the hillocks, Clark delayed bringing his 
men close to the town until after dark. 

On arriving, lyieutenant Bailey was ordered to take 
fourteen men and open fire on the fort, while the rest 
took possession of the town. When the Americans 
began to fire, the British thought nothing of it, suppos- 
ing that some of the Indians were amusing themselves. 
When one of their men was shot through a loophole 
they awoke to the fact that a more formidable enemy 
was at their gates. Games, pipes, and cards were tossed 
aside, the drums beat the alarm, and the soldiers made 
ready to defend the fort. The officers had heard that a 
party of men was approaching Vincennes, and Captain 
Lamothe had been sent out to reconnoiter, but they had 
no idea that it was George Rogers Clark and his army. 

The battle soon began in earnest, all of Clark's men, 



THE CAPTURE OF FORT SACKVILLE. II3 

except a reserve of fifty, taking part. Breastworks were 
built near the fort, behind which the soldiers so con- 
cealed themselves that the British could form no idea 
of their numbers. At the corners of Fort Sackville 
were blockhouses, in each of which was a cannon, which 
did little harm to Clark's men, but damaged some of 
the houses near by. These guns were quickly rendered 
useless by the excellent marksmanship of the backwoods 
soldiers. No sooner were the openings made for the 
cannon, than such a volley of bullets poured in that 
the British could not stand to their guns. Seven or 
eight gunners were shot down at their posts. When 
the openings were closed the Americans showered 
taunts and abuse on their enemies, with the purpose of 
inducing them to fire again. In this they were often 
successful, but after a time the use of the cannon had to 
be discontinued. 

The American breastworks were within thirty yards 
of the fort. Had the English been able to use their 
cannon these must have been demolished, and many 
soldiers killed. Keeping w^^il under cover, according 
to Clark's orders, the riflemen not only silenced the can- 
non, but shot into the loopholes of the fort the moment 
a shadow darkened one of them. Clark kept his men 
firing and shouting at such a rate that the English 
thought his force a great deal larger than it was. He 
ordered a detachment to begin work on a mine, with a 
view to blowing up the fort. He felt that he had no 



114 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

time to lose, for sliou4d the Indians decide to unite with 
the British he knew he would be overpowered. 

Captain Lamothe, the British officer who had been 
sent out on the scouting expedition, was now very 
anxious to join his comrades inside the fort. For some 
time he hovered about, seeking a chance to enter, but 
finding none. When Clark discovered this, he concluded 
to let him get in, for fear he might stir up the Indians 
against him. He withdrew his men to some little dis- 
tance, ordering them not to fire on Lamothc, should he 
attempt to get in. As he had foreseen, the British officer 
at once made a dash for his friends. He and his men 
were eagerly assisted by those within the fort, and all 
were safely admitted, amid such taunts and jeers from 
the Americans as must have told them that .Jthey had 
been purposely allowed to enter. This made the English 
surer than ever that Clark had a large force, for as 
soon as these men were safely inside, the Americans 
again opened fire. 

It was not long before Hamilton sent word to Clark that 
he wished a three-days' truce, and asked the American 
commander to meet him at the gate of the fort. Clark 
replied that he would agree to nothing but surrender, 
although he was willing to meet General Hamilton, 
with Captain Helm, in the church. This was arranged, 
and the two commanders stood face to face. Captain 
Helm, the American prisoner, Major H^y, an English 
officer, and Captain Bowman were also present. 



THE CAPTURE OF FORT SACKVILLE. II5 

Hamilton asked that his troops be permitted to go to 
Pensacola in case of surrender. Clark answered that 
this could not be allowed; that the British troops had 
fought bravely and would not be worse treated in con- 
sequence; that General Hamilton must know, that, as 
the fort would surely be taken, any further fighting 
would be murder; that the American soldiers were very 
eager to storm the fort and could hardly be restrained; 
that if they once got in, even he, himself, would not 
be able to save a single man. 

This was far from being satisfactory to General 
Hamilton, and the two commanders were about to part 
without coming to any agreement, when Clark said, 

"Firing will not begin. Your Excellency, until after 
the drums give the alarm." 

"Why do you refuse all terms but unconditional sur- 
render?" asked Hamilton. 

"Because," said Clark frankly, "there are among 
your officers some of those who set the Indians to mur- 
dering our friends and relations on the Kentucky border. 
I wish to put those men to death for the wrong they 
have done. They are Indian partisans." 

" Pray, sir," broke in Major Hay, "who is it that 
you call an Indian partisan? " 

"Sir," replied Colonel Clark, "I take Major Hay to 
be one of the principals." 

At this Hay turned deadly pale, and trembled so that 
Clark knew he had judged rightly; Hamilton seemed 



I I f) < ,l'i ilv( .!• Ivi It .Ii \<'\ 1 I AK'K. 

^ic.ll ly (lisl III l»i(l. ( >inc lllolc ItllM'.ol Mil icllilcl wcic 
diMCUSSi'd, niul I l.iiiii ll< >ii Idl loiiid Id );i\'f w.iw /\ii 
odlcial |).i]Mi w.is iii.uli (Mil .111(1 Mi'iicd .1'. lollows: 

I. I .iciilcii.iiil (hi\(III()| I l.ilililldll clIj.^ilJ^M'S lo deliver 

ii|) lo (.\»l(>ii( 1 (M.iiL I'oil Siifkvillc, UH it is ill pK'Scut, 
wil li ;il I sloKS, (If. 

.:. 'The jNii I isoii lire lo drlivfi' llitMnst'lvcs as |)iis()iuM'S 
«)l vv;ii ;iii(l iiiaicli oiil, with atiti:., Mccoiiliciiiciils, clc. 

^. 'Tlic i>;iiii:.(>ii lo Ih- (|(Ii\'ch(1 ii|> .iI I(|| (('clock 
lo lliol I o\v 

,|. 'riiicc (l.i\:. lo l)c .illowcd llic I'.iiii'.oii lo '.clllf' 
I licit nccoiiiil:. Willi I lie I nil. 1 1 III, I III:, .iiid li.idci. ol I lie 
pliice. 

5. 'IMu' olliccrs (»l I Ik- );.ilii:.oii lo lie illowcd I In 11 
nc(>c,ss:ir\' l>.'ij;>>ai»;c, ( l» . 

Sij',llf(l III P'oll \'lllC(|ll ( V'lliceillie;.),' - I I I' I'llilll.liy, 

I '/•/.,. 

Aj'lccd |o| llle lollowili;' le.l'.oli;.: 'Idic I ellloleiieSS 
llolll Mieeol, llie '.liilc .illd ( |ll.l 11 ll I \' ( il | >l ovisK HI,'., el ("., 

iiii.iiiiiiiil\ (il olliceis and men 111 il:. 1 \|iedicnc\', llie 
lionoi;ilile leiin.s .dlowcd, and, l.i'.ll\, llie coiilideiice in 

a )•( IK I oir. ( IK lll\'. 

Sl}MI<-d, 1 I !', N I' \' I I A l\l I l,'r< MM, 

I j( iileiianl <'.o\'( iiioi and Sn |i( 1 1 nlcnd' nl . 

Willi'' 1(1 ins (ll ,•.111 K lldel Wde licillp (li:.cil'.:.ed, .1 |i.ll I V 
ol lvv('iil\' iiidi.iii'., who hat! jii'.! k liiiiKd lioin .1 laid on 
llie KeiiliKl.\ ;.ellleiii( Ills, wa;. ;,een apiiloac hiiij; Hit- 
lowii. A II AiiKiiean ( apl .li 11, John WiHiaiii';, and :.onie 
ol hi:; men, weiil oiil lo nieel IIk in. Thex' iill( i((l llie 
CIS ol ,Mic('e:,;,liil waiiior., .iiid (\i|il.iiii William', all- 



nil', (ArillKr: ()!■ iMtUT SA( KVII I K, iiy 

swcud llicir si^iis. Tin- Indians lind .1 •..diilr, .nid 
Williams's iiu-ii did I Ik- .saiiu-. Win 11 iln iwo [..iiln-i 
were within a shoil dislancc ol ( .k li <.lh<i lln « Im I 
stopped; Williams qnickly sri/td liiin, and IJn- Indi.iii:) 
turned and ran, llu- while iiu-n in pnisnil. A niinilxi 
of savages w<i<- I-. ill<d onlnj-hl, oIIhis were lal;< n pir, 
oners, andhitcr on kilhd nnd< 1 llie v<iy wall-, ol Ihc 
fort. Tin's was doni- lo '.liow lli<- oIIki Indian', how 
J)Oweiless lln- I'ai;.'lr,li w'i< |r, |)|(,|< ( I ||m in 

When Claik saw lli<- iiiMdi- ol lh<- loil, willi il'. |il< n 
tilnl stores, he was niueh siiipir.'d llial h< had won so 
easy a victcjiy. lie derid. d lo o |(,r,L- some ol his 
prisoners, who w< i<- volnnli < i', liom l)< Iroit, as Ik- had 
more on his hands llim h'-<onld w< II care lor, Ih 
told these y(jnn^ men I hat h<- kin-w I hey had ]>•< n j. d 
away Ijy their love (jf advenlnre; thai in:, had «d him;; 
sent as prisoners lo Vii,i',inia liny 'oiijd i-o hai l< lr» 
Detroit and Idl Ih'ii fii'iidswhal kind ol «on<jiien>r?» 
the Amerieans w<ie. The yonn^^ volunteer'-, y/'-r^ only 
too glad to do this, an'l .-dlerwajds njade many liK-ndfi / 
for the American cause .anion;' ih< citizens of iJetroit, 

Word came that bo.-its headed with stores for Fori 
Sackville were on their way from IJ' Iroit, and Captain 
H<lni v/-'is sent out to intere«jjt lh< in. This he was for 
tunately ahle to do, and a valuable prize wa» thus 
secured. The provisions were taken for piibhV u,e^ :i)u\ 
the goods divided among the soldiers. 

Captain Rogers, of ////- lVi//i/i/f, soon joined Clark 



Il8 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

at Vincennes, greatly regretting that he had arrived too 
late to take part in the attack. He and Captain Williams 
were later sent to Virginia in charge of Hamilton, his 
officers, and some men. Hamilton was treated with 
great severity in Virginia prisons, bnt after a time was 
released and exchanged. 



IX. — The DeLx\ware Indians. 

After his victory Colonel Clark sent no message to 
the Indians, bnt waited to see what effect the news would 
have upon them. They very soon began to flock into 
Vincennes for the purpose of making peace. Clark told 
them he was glad to take their promises, but that if these 
promises were ever broken the Long Knives would not 
trust the Indians again. After much ceremony, and 
many speeches, belts were exchanged, peace pipes 
smoked, and a number of treaties signed. Lieutenant 
Richard Brash ear was left in charge of Fort Sack vi He, 
with one hundred men. Captain Helm was made com- 
mandant of the town, and put in charge of Indian 
affairs. 

On the twentieth of March, Clark, and the rest of his 
men, embarked on The Willing for Kaskaskia. On 
their way up the Mississippi they saw several new 
Indian camps. They learned, when they reached Kas- 
kaskia, that some Delaware Indians had been in town a 



THE DELAWARE INDIANS. II9 

few days before behaving very badly, some of them even 
going so far as to flash their guns at white women. 
Some passing soldiers had come to the rescue, and 
driven the Indians away. 

Later on, word came from Captain Helm that a party 
of traders had been killed by Delawares near Vincennes. 
Clark at once sent out a company to find their camps 
and villages. He distrusted these savages, and felt that 
he ought to destroy them if he could. They had, at one 
time, made a sort of peace treaty with the Americans, 
but he knew that they really wanted war. He was 
glad that he now had the opportunity of showing the 
other tribes what the Long Knives would do with those 
who dared to make war against them. 

He sent orders to the soldiers at Vincennes to attack 
the Delawares at once; to kill the men, but spare the 
women and children. Accordingly their camps were de- 
stroyed, many Indians killed, and many taken prisoners. 
The Delawares then asked for peace, but were told that 
they dare not lay down the hatchet without permission 
from Colonel Clark; but that a message would be sent 
for them to Kaskaskia. Clark sent back word that he 
would not grant peace; that he never trusted those who 
once broke faith; but that if they could get other tribes 
to be their security he would let them alone. 

The Delawares then called a council, at which Clark's 
answer was made public. The Piankeshaws promised 
to be security for the good faith and conduct of the 



I20 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

Delawares. Tobacco's Son made a speech, in wliich he 
blamed them severely. 

"I gave you permission to settle in this country," 
said he, "but not to kill my friends. If you offend 
again, I, myself, will punish you. I swear it by the 
Sacred Bow." 

This bow was then brought out. It was a wonderful 
affair, decorated with feathers, eagles' tails, a pipe of 
peace, and many trinkets. At one end was a spear, six 
inches long, which had been dipped in blood. This 
bow could only be handled by the greatest chiefs. It 
made a profound impression on the frightened Dela- 
wares, who were now only too glad to declare themselves 
at peace with the Long Knives. 



X. — Back in Kentucky. 

The first messenger sent to Virginia, with news of 
the victory at Vincennes, was killed on the way; but 
when the Virginians finally learned what Clark had done 
there was great rejoicing. The brave soldiers, and their 
braver commander, were praised on every side. The 
assembly presented Colonel Clark with a fine sword, in 
recognition of his "distinguished services." 

But the troops promised for an expedition against 
Detroit were not sent; Clark therefore decided to go 
back to Kentucky, making his way by the river to the 



BACK IN KENTUCKY. 121 

Falls of the Ohio. He found that many new settlers 
had come to Kentucky, and this caused him to hope that 
he might soon so increase his army as to be able to 
march against the British. He made a careful plan for 
the laying in of large stores of jerked meat for army 
supplies, but his hunters were so harassed by the Indians 
that nothing came of it. 

Corn Island had been abandoned, and a fort built on 
the Kentucky side of the river. Clark set himself at 
work strengthening this fort and preparing it for defense. 
This was really the foundation of the city of Ivouisville. 
Clark drew a plan for a magnificent city, laying out 
many parks and public grounds. If these ideas had 
been carried out Louisville would now be one of the 
most beautiful cities in the country; but as the town 
around the fort grew larger much of the public land 
was sold. Colonel Clark also drew up maps and plans 
for a city to be built opposite Louisville, which he 
hoped would be called Clarksville. 

Clark now became anxious to have a fort built at the 
mouth of the Ohio. This, he felt, would strengthen 
the American claim to the newly conquered Illinois 
country. He hoped also to establish other forts to the 
north, which would keep the Indians farther away from 
Kentucky. 

In 1780 he went, with a small force, to a place on the 
Mississippi called Iron Banks, four or five miles below 
the mouth of the Ohio River. Here he built several 



122 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

blockhouses, and a fort called Fort Jefferson. Soon 
after its completion it was besieged by one thousand 
Choctaw and Cherokee Indians. Within were only 
thirty men, some of whom were sick; water was scarce, 
and, at one time, the only food was unripe pumpkins. 
The men had no thought of surrender, however, and 
finally succeeded in driving off their foes. 

The Indians were entrapped into a certain position, 
where a cannon, loaded with rifle and musket balls, 
could be brought to bear on them. It was fired into 
their ranks, when they were crowded together, with 
deadly effect. They drew off in haste, and made no 
more assaults; and after hovering about the neighbor- 
hood until Clark arrived with reinforcements, they dis- 
appeared, 

Clark so feared an expedition from Detroit that he 
planned to avert it by making the first attack himself. 
With this in view he set out from Fort Jefferson for Har- 
rodsburg, with only two companions. He was undertak- 
ing a most dangerous journey, for the country between 
the two places was full of hostile Indians. Clark and his 
men painted their faces and dressed like savages, hoping 
in this way to elude their foes. They were, in conse- 
quence, fired on by some white men who mistook them 
for Indians; fortunately no one was hurt. Living on 
buffalo meat and game, and crossing the swollen streams 
on rafts made of logs and grapevines, the travelers 
reached Harrodsburg in safety. 



BACK IN KENTUCKY. 



123 



Clark began at once to raise troops, for he knew that 
the situation was serious. Kentucky was threatened by 
the British, and harassed by Indians. News came that 
an expedition had really been planned by the English 
and their savage allies against Kaskaskia and Cahokia. 
Then word aiTived that an army of seven hundred and 
fifty men was already on the way south; that American 
traders had been taken on the Mississippi; that workers 
in the lead mines had been made prisoners. 

These threatening and real dangers caused great 
alarm in Kentucky. Clark decided to attack his ene- 
mies, not only to punish them, but to calm the fears of 
his frightened countrymen. He gathered together, at 
the mouth of the Licking River, all the able-bodied men 
in the vicinity. 

These troops marched at once, one thousand strong, 
lo an Indian village north of the Ohio River, carrying 
a cannon with them on the back of a pack horse. The 
Indians fled on hearing of the approach of the white 
men, who burned the village to the ground as soon as 
they reached it. They then went on to Piqua, an 
Indian town of well-built log houses, gardens of corn 
and beans, and a strong blockhouse. The white men 
opened an attack, and the Indians retreated so skillfully 
as to lose only a few of their number. The village was 
burned and the crops destroyed. One other Indian 
town was burned before the pioneers turned towards 
home. 



124 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

Diirinj; this time things were going very badly at 
Fort Jefferson, as there were but few men in the gar- 
rison. One by one these sickened, died, or deserted; and 
finally the fort was abandoned. 



XI. — LOCHRV'S DKKIvAT. 

Colonel Clark, in 17S1, was still very anxious to 
march against Detroit. He called a council of war at 
the Falls of the Ohio to consider the number of troops 
needed, and how they could be fed. He then went to 
Virginia, hoping to get help there; but during his stay 
the British, under Arnold, invaded the state. He laid 
aside his own hopes and plans long enough to help his 
countrymen repel this invasion. 

Both Governor Thomas Jefferson and General George 
Washington approved of Clark's plans, and promised to 
do what they could to further them. They were able 
to do very little, however, and he experienced great 
difficulty in securing men. Indeed there were, this 
time, very few who were not already in the continental 
army, or desperately needed at home. 

Clark had hoped to leave Fort Pitt on June fifteenth, 
with two thousand men. He was obliged to start down 
the river with only four hundred, but expecting other 
troops to follow. One division of these was commanded 
by Colonel Lochry of Pennsylvania, who started in July 



lochry's defeat. 125 

to join Clark, but met with inatiy delays. Clark, after 
waitiiii^ for him at Wheeling five days longer than he 
had planned, was then obliged to move on with his 
restless soldiers. He left boats and provisions for 
Locliry, who came the next day and immediately fol- 
lowed him down the river. Loehry was again delayed, 
and, instead of meeting Clark at the place decided on, 
arrived there one day too late. Clark moved his troops 
to the mouth of the Kanawha River, but they were so 
uneasy and dissatisfied that he did not dare remain. He 
left a letter on a pole for Loehry, telling him to come on 
as quickly as possible. 

Misfortunes followed thick and fast. Lochry's ])arty 
did not know the channel of the river; their supplies 
became exhausted, and they at last lost all hope of 
catching up with Clark. Captain Shannon, with seven 
men, was sent down the river in a fast boat, to overtake 
Clark and tell him the plight of his friends. These 
men were captured by Indians, who read the letter telling 
Clark of Lochry's forlorn condition. 

The British, and their Indian allies, had thought 
Clark's and Lochry's parties were together, but now, 
knowing them to be miles apart, they at once decided to 
attack the weaker force. Three hundred of them 
watched their opportunity at the mouth of the Great 
Miami River, where they won an easy victory. Forty 
Americans were killed, and the rest of the party cap- 
tured. 



126 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

Great was the distress in Pennsylvania when the 
news of this defeat arrived, for Ivochry's expedition had 
been made up of some of the best and bravest men in 
the state, and of these there were none to spare. Clark 
was overwhelmed with grief and chagrin, for this dis- 
aster destroyed his hope of being able to march against 
Detroit. 



XII. — Border Troubles. 

After Lochry's defeat Clark went to the Falls of the 
Ohio, where he found trouble and toil awaiting him. 
There were difficulties between citizens and soldiers at 
Vincennes, and trouble of the same sort in the Illinois 
towns. Kaskaskia was in constant peril; food and sup- 
plies were scarce everywhere. In Kentucky many 
people had been obliged to give up their farms and 
move into the forts; whole families had been destroyed 
by the Indians, and the settlements were full of widows 
and orphans. One brave man. Colonel Floyd, had gone 
in pursuit of the Indians with twenty-five men. He had 
met a band of two hundred savages and been defeated. 

Clark went to work with his unfailing courage and 
ability, first calling a council of war. Some were in 
favor of an expedition against the Indians, others of 
building more forts along the Ohio, still others of 
attempting another outpost at the mouth of the river. 
Clark advised a stronger fort at the falls, which was built, 



BORDER TROUBLES. 127 

and called Fort Nelson. Two others were also erected 
near by. Fort Nelson contained about an acre of ground, 
and was surrounded by a ditch eight feet deep and ten 
feet wide. The breastworks were log pens filled with 
earth; and pickets ten feet high were planted on them. 
Inside of the fort was a spring of running water. 

Clark decided to have the river patrolled by armed 
boats. He asked the government for means to build 
them, but did not receive any money, for the simple 
reason that there was none in the treasury of Virginia. 
Although disappointed he was not discouraged, but set 
to work to do the next best thing. He built a gunboat 
himself and armed it with cannon. This boat patrolled 
the river, from the falls to where the city of Cincinnati 
now stands, and did good service. 

In the spring of 1782, another Indian war broke out. 
Esthill's Station was first attacked and captured. A 
little later several hundred Indians attacked Bryant's 
Station. Here they were not successful, but by this 
time the settlers were greatly alarmed. One hundred 
and eighty-two men quickly got together to fight the 
Indians, They met them at a place called Blue Licks, 
and a fierce battle was fought, in which one third of 
the Kentuckians lost their lives. 

Clark was then called on to command the men who 
were assembling from all the western settlements. By 
November he was able to lead an army of over one 
thousand frontiersmen towards the Indian villaees on 



128 GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

the Miami River, As was usually the case, the savages 
fled at the approach of the white men, who destroyed a 
number of towns, and all crops and provisions. This 
brought such poverty and famine on the Indians that 
they were, for the time, completely crushed. They 
ceased to harass the Kentucky border, and kept to the 
north of the Ohio River. 



XIII.— After the War. 

When the treaty of peace between the United States 
and Great Britain was signed the American people 
began to realize the great value of George Rogers 
Clark's services to his country. The Northwest Terri- 
tory, which included what are now the states of Ohio, 
Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin, was in 
American, not English hands. Had it not been so, 
England might have kept this territory for herself. 

Virginia, now one of the United States, finding her- 
self exhausted by the seven years' war, had neither 
money nor supplies for Clark's army in the west. Foi 
these reasons he was relieved of his command in 1783. 
A letter was sent him containing many expressions of 
Virginia's appreciation of his services. Nevertheless 
he was left without work or money. He found him- 
self obliged to take the long journey to Williamsburg 
in such poverty and distress that he was in need of 



AFTER THE WAR. 129 

even necessary clothing. He went to ask for a little of 
the money he had so hardly earned. Twenty years 
after his death the government paid his heirs thirty 
thousand dollars on his account. Five or six years 
before he died he was allowed a pension of four hundred 
dollars a year. In the meantime he was a poor man. 

In January, 1785, Clark and two other men, Butler 
and Lee, were sent by the United States government to 
make treaties with the Wyandotte, Chippewa, and Ottawa 
Indians. The council was held at Fort Mcintosh, on 
the Ohio River. The greatest of the chiefs, on seeing 
Clark, took him by the hand and said, " I thank the 
Great Spirit for having this day brought together two 
such great warriors as Buckongehelas and General 
Clark." 

The next January, Clark, Butler, and Parsons were 
sent to make a treaty with the Shawnees. Three hun- 
dred Indians arrived at the meeting place, gay with 
paint and feathers. As the garrison of the fort num- 
bered only seventy men, this was rather alarming. One 
Indian made a bold speech, which so excited the others 
that they whooped at every pause. The chief presented 
black and white wampum, signifying that he was ready 
for either peace or war. 

General Clark pushed these belts off the table as if 
they were of no consequence, at which all the Indians 
started up with a savage cry. Clark rose to his feet, 
glared at them a moment, then stamped his foot, and 



130 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 



ordered them to "get out." They left at once, and 
held council together all night; in the morning they 
sued for peace. 

The men who had gone with Clark to the Illinois 
country received the land promised them in the con- 
quered territory. One thousand acres, opposite lyouis- 
ville, was set aside for a town to be called Clarksville. 




COI^ONEIv CLARK S HOME AT CLARKSVILLE. 

To this settlement General Clark now gave his time and 
attention, laying plans for a fine city, which, however, 
were never realized. Twenty or thirty families settled 
in the new town, and Clark himself lived there, in a 
little log house on the river bank. 

As he grew older he became much broken in health, 
and paralysis finally disabled him. In his helplessness 
he fell one day, so near the fire that one leg was terribly 
burned. 



AFTER THE WAR. 



131 



It became necessary to cut off the injured limb, and 
the old soldier bravely ordered the surgeon to "go 
ahead." Chloroform was not used in those days, and 
the only help for a man in such a case was his own 
courage. General Clark asked that the drums and fifes 
might be played for him while the operation was in 
progress, and to the music he kept time with his fingers 
during the long two hours of agony. 

The sword presented to Clark in 1779 had been 
bought for the purpose. In 1812 the Virginia legisla- 




THE SWORD PRESENTED TO COI.ONEL CLARK BY THE STATE 
OF VIRGINIA. 



ture ordered one made to take its place. At the time of 
its presentation General Clark was living on the Ken- 
tucky side of the river with his sister. To General 
Mercer, who had been sent to him with the sword, it is 
said he made the following reply: 

"You have made a very handsome address, and the 
sword is very handsome, too. When Virginia needed a 
sword I gave her one. I am too old and infirm, as you 
see, ever to use a sword again, but I am glad that my 



132 



GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 



old mother state lias not forgotten me, and I thank her for 
the honor, and you for your kindness and friendly words." 

General Clark died February thirteenth, 1818, old, 
paralyzed, crippled, poor, and with clouded mind. He 
was buried in private ground at Locust Grove, just out 
of Louisville. Fifty years later his remains were re- 
moved to the Louisville cemetery, at Cave Hill, where 
they now rest, marked by a simple headstone. 

In the city of Indianapolis, in February, 1895, a 
monument was erected in his honor. 




MONUMENT TO GENERAL, GEORGE ROGERS CI^ARK AT INDIAN- 
APOLIS, INDIANA. 



THE STORY OF 

DAVID CROCKETT 



By Frances M. Perry 




DAVID CROCKETT. 



DAVID CROCKETT 

THE HERO OF TENNESSEE 



I. — A Neglected Child. 

A little ragged bo)- with frowzy hair and dirty face 
stood on the bank of a river screaming with rage. He 
was angry with his older brothers, who were paddling 
about in a canoe. They did not heed his screams, and 
would soon be carried out of hearing by the swiftly 
flowing water. 

His little heart was full of anger because they had not 
taken him with them. But since there is no use in 
crying when there is no one to hear, the child presently 
began to sob more quietly. 

In a little while he saw a workman running toward 
the stream, and his screams grew louder. But to his 
surprise the man ran past him, plunged into the water, 
swam to the canoe, and with great efforts dragged it 
ashore. 

The little boy did not understand that if the man had 
been a few minutes later his brothers would have been 
swept over the falls and dashed to death on the rocks 

135 



136 DAVID CROCKETT. 

below. But he did know that they were badly fright- 
ened, and he thought they deserved it. 

No one told him that it was wrong to lose his temper, 
or that he should be very thankful to have his brothers 
still alive. For no one cared very much what little 
David Crockett thought or how he felt. 

He was left to take care of himself. No one coaxed 
him through the mysteries of the alphabet, no one sang 
him to sleep, or taught him to lisp a prayer. 

His hard-working father and mother did not wish to 
be troubled with children's quarrels. Each one was 
allowed to fight his own battles. As David had several 
brothers older than himself, he learned early to stand up 
for his rights with voice and fist. 

He usually had his own way with the boys ; for when 
he did not, he made a great trouble about it, and they 
found it easier to give up to the headstrong youngster 
than to oppose him. 

His mother scolded him when he bothered her. His 
father whipped him if he did not mind. The only com- 
mandments the boy knew, were: " Mind your father," 
and, " Don't bother your mother." 

David Crockett's first home was a poor little floorless 
log hut near the present village of Limestone in East 
Tennessee. There he was born on the 17th of August, 
1786, and there he was living at the time of the incident 
of which I have told you. 

The cabin was a comfortless place, with nothing in it 



A NEGLECTED CHILD. 



137 



to make life cheerful and happy. But David had never 
known anything better, and so he enjoyed himself, in his 
own way, as well as though he were living in a palace. 

His father was a restless man, never satisfied to 
remain long in one place ; and in a short time the old 
home was abandoned, and the famil}' moved to another 
about fifty miles fiirther west. 

Thus the Crocketts went about from one part of Ten- 




MAP OK TUNNliSSKE, SHOWING PLACES WHERE CROCKETT UVED. 



nessee to another, seldom staying in any one locality 
longer than two or three years. Wherever they went 
the wild, wooded country was beautiful. But the 
shanties in which they lived were always dark and 
dismal. David spent most of the time out of doors and 
grew to be a rugged and active boy. 

He had a strong will and generally succeeded in 
doing whatever seemed worth while. He thought it 
worth while to make his play fellows do as he wished. 
They looked upon him as their leader and liked him. 



138 DAVID CROCKETT, 

On the other hand he had learned that it was not 
worth while to displease his father. He therefore did 
his best at any work that his father told him to do. 
Mr. Crockett thought David a handy boy and found 
plenty of small jobs to keep him busy. 



11. — A Homesick Boy. 

When David Crockett was twelve years old his father 
kept an inn on a forest road where teamsters stopped for 
food and rest. 

One evening David came in whistling. He knew by 
the wagons outside that there were guests at the house, 
and he was sure of a good supper. He noticed that 
everybody stopped talking and looked at him as he 
entered. He glanced at his mother, who was working 
over the fire with tearful eyes. Then he saw that his 
father was dropping silver pieces into his drawer with a 
look of satisfaction. 

He listened with a fast beating heart while his father 
explained that a driver had hired him to help drive his 
cattle to market and told him to be ready in the morn- 
ing to start to Virginia with his new master. A great 
lump rose in his throat and he found it hard to talk. 
His mother piled his plate with good things, but he 
could not eat. The thought of going so far from home 
among strangers gave him a queer, lonely feeling. 

On that other day, long before, when his brothers had 



A HOMESICK BOY. I39 

left him alone on the shore, he was angry and wished to 
punish them. But now he had no idea of objecting to 
his father's order and he knew better than to make a 
scene. He struggled manfully with his feelings and 
kept back the tears. 

That was in 1798, and there were then few roads or 
bridges between East Tennessee and Virginia. A four 
hundred mile tramp over mountainous land was a hard- 
ship for even so strong a boy as David Crockett. 

Our little hero often got cold and tired and hungry. 
He was glad when night came. Then after a hearty 
supper of wild turkey or venison he would throw him- 
self upon a bed of dry leaves and sleep, and dream of 
home. 

The journey ended a few miles from the Natural 
Bridge in Virginia. David's master was pleased with 
the work he had done and was kind to him. In addi- 
tion to what he had paid Mr. Crockett he gave the boy 
six dollars. No plan had been made for David's return. 
His employer wanted him to stay with him, and offered 
to do well by him. But David was so homesick that no 
place seemed good to him without his father and mother 
and sisters and brothers. 

One day when he was alone he saw some teamsters 
traveling west. He knew them, for they had once or 
twice stopped at his father's inn. He begged them to 
take him home. They were afraid they would get into 
trouble if they did so without asking his employer; but 



140 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



they felt sorry for him and promised to let him go with 
them if he would join them at daybreak the next morn- 
ing at a tavern seven miles up the road. 

That night David tied his clothes into a little bundle 
and went to bed, but not to sleep. He was so happy 
thinking of going home, and so fearful lest he might 




DAVID'S ARRIVAL AT THE TAVERN. 

oversleep, that he could not close 

his eyes. In the middle of the 

night he got up and left the house while every one was 

fast asleep. 

When he opened the door large snowflakes blew 
against his cheeks. It was dark, but he could see that 
the ground had a heavy coating of white and the snow 
was falling fast. This would make his tramp harder. 
But he had no idea of giving up. 



A HOMESICK BOY. 14I 

Blinded by the snow and the darkness, he stumbled 
along toward the highway. He was afraid lest some 
one should find out that he had left and follow him. 
When he reached the road he felt safe, for he thought 
they would not follow far in the dark, and in the morn- 
ing his tracks would be filled with snow so that they 
would not know which way he had gone. 

With a lighter heart he trudged along in the night 
and the storm, and reached the tavern a little before 
daylight. The men were already up and harnessing 
the horses. They were surprised to see the lad wading 
through snow almost up to his knees. They warmed 
and fed him, and then the party started in the gray 
dawn. 

David made himself so helpful that he won the good 
will of the men, and they wished to keep him in their 
company all the way. But the heavy wagons moved 
too slowly for the impatient boy. When within two 
hundred miles of home he left his friends and set out on 
foot alone through the wilderness. 

Just before he reached a large river he was overtaken 
by a man riding in his direction. This man was lead- 
ing a horse and kindly invited the small adventurer 
to mount it. David continued in the care of this 
good-hearted man until within twenty miles of home. 
There their ways separated and David hurried to his 
father's house as fast as his nimble feet could carry 
him. 



142 DAVID CROCKETT. 

In this adventure the boy showed the energy and 
determination that in later life won for him the title of 
"Go-ahead-Crockett." * 



III. — A Runaway. 

David stayed at home that summer and helped his 
father. In the following- autumn a school was opened 
in the neighborhood. The settlers were glad to give 
their children a chance to learn to read and write. The 
young people, large and small, gathered in the log 
schoolhouse, where the new schoolmaster set them to 
work to learn their letters. David was one of the 
pupils. 

The first day he watched, in wide-eyed wonder, every- 
thing that was done. Then he grew tired of school and 
thought it very stupid to sit still all day and study. 
Most of the people whom he knew were unable to read 
and write, and he did not see why he need know more 
than they did. It seemed to him much more manly to 
be at work. However, he persevered for four days, and 
was beginning to make some headway with the alpha- 
bet, when his school education was brought to a sudden 
check. 

He had a quarrel with one of the school boys. The 
two boys had a fight on the way home from school. 
Although the other was the older and the larger boy, 
David proved to be the stronger. He bruised and 



A RUNAWAY. I43 

scratched his foe unmercifully, and the next day he was 
afraid to go back to school, lest the teacher should find 
out about it and punish him. 

For several days he left home in the morning with 
his brothers, but went to the woods instead of to school. 
Most of the boys liked him too well to tell his father, 
and the others were afraid of displeasing him. Finally 
the schoolmaster wrote a note to Mr. Crockett to ask 
why David did not come to school. 

When the severe father learned that David had 
played truant for fear of a whipping, he said he would 
give him a harder thrashing than any he had ever 
dreamed of if he did not go back to school. As David 
refused to obey, he cut a heavy hickory stick and 
started after him in a rage. 

The boy outran his half-drunken father, and hid till 
the latter gave up the chase. He felt well satisfied 
with his escape; but when he began to be hungry he was 
afraid to go home. He remembered how easily he had 
made friends among strangers, and decided to run 
away. 

He went to the house of a man who he knew was 
about to take a drove of cattle to Virginia. As David 
had had experience in this kind of work, the man very 
willingly hired him to go with him. When the work 
was done, instead of returning to Tennessee, the boy 
found other employment. 

He went as far east as Baltimore and engaged to work 



144 DAVID CROCKETT. 

on a ship bound for London. The wagoner, whom he 
was with at the time, was a sensible man and would not 
let him go to sea. This seemed to David great cruelty, 
for he did not know what a miserable, friendless little 
drudge he would have been on the ship. 

Compelled to stay on land, he wandered from place to 
place working on farms, driving cattle, and tending 
horses. It was never hard for him to make friends or 
get work. He was a cheerful, jolly boy; every one liked 
him, and he was so lively and industrious that his work 
always gave satisfaction. But, work as he would, he 
could not make more than enough to feed and clothe 
himself. And new friends and new scenes could not 
make the faithful boy forget old ones. 

He often thought of home, but his father, with a 
hickory stick, was the most prominent figure in the 
home picture, and he could not make up his mind to go 
back. If his father had been angry with him for run- 
ning away from school, how much more angry would 
he be with him for running away from home! He was 
fifteen years old before his longing to see home and 
friends overcame his dread of punishment. 

When at last he came in sight of the familiar little 
inn after his long absence, he saw wagons before the 
door. He knew strangers were there and the idea 
occurred to him to ask for a night's lodging as if he 
were a passing traveler. He was curious to see if any 
one would recognize him. 



A HIRED HAND. I45 

When he went in, the men were lounging before the 
fire, and the women were getting supper. He sat in 
tlie shadow of the chimney corner and took no part in 
the conversation. 

When they went to the supper-table the women 
gave their attention tO their guests, and David could not 
escape the sharp eyes of his eldest sister. She looked 
at him keenly for a moment, then jumped up and 
rushed at him, crying: " Here is my long lost brother." 

There was great rejoicing over the returned runaway. 
When he found how glad all were to see him again, and 
when he realized how great grief his mother and sisters 
had suffered, he felt humbled and ashamed. He saw 
that it would have been more manly to stay home and 
take his punishment than to make others suffer so much; 
and he wished that he had done so. 

It is needless to say that in his joy at the homecom- 
ing of his big boy, the father forgot the threatened 
whipping. 



IV. — A Hired Hand. 

The law of Tennessee required a man to give his son 
a home and support until he was eighteen years old. 
In return for that the son's time, labor, and money were 
under the control of his father. 

David Crockett had shown that he could take care of 
himself. He had unlearned the lesson of childhood, 



146 DAVID CROCKETT. 

"Mind your father"; and Mr. Crockett saw that it 
would be hard to keep him at home unless he chose to 
stay. So he promised to give him his liberty if he 
would work out a debt of thirty -six dollars which he 
owed to one of the neighbors. 

David was ready to do that. He went at once to the 
man and agreed to work for six months in payment 01 
his father's debt. He worked faithfully, never missing 
a day for half a year. At the end of that time he was 
his own master. His father had no more right to his 
time or labor. 

The youth had no money, but he was capable of 
making his own way. The man for whom he had 
been working wished to keep him. But he refused 
to work longer for him, because the men who met at 
his place were men of bad habits and character, and he 
did not wish to become like them. 

He went to an old Quaker farmer and asked for 
employment. The Quaker allowed him to work on 
trial for a week. Then, being satisfied with his services, 
he told the boy that if he would work for him six 
months he would cancel a debt of forty dollars that Mr. 
Crockett owed him. 

David thought it over. He was not responsible for 
his father's debts. He had done his duty; and his 
father expected nothing more of him. Surely he owed 
nothing to the man who had hired him out when he 
was twelve years old to work among strangers, and who 



A HIRED HAND. I47 

in drunken fury had driven him from home. But he 
was a generous boy, and the thought of giving his old 
father a pleasant surprise pleased him so much that he 
accepted the Quaker's offer. 

For another six months he worked hard and faith- 
fully without even visiting his home, though he was 
only fifteen miles away from it. At the end of that 
time the Quaker gave him his father's note for the forty 
dollars. Then he felt proud as a king. 

One Sunday afternoon he brushed his hair and his old 
clothes, borrowed a horse, and rode over to his home. 
The family gave him a warm welcome. He was now 
the family pet. He had traveled so much and had so 
many interesting experiences to relate that even his 
father listened with respect to his conversation. Then, 
too, he was his own master, making his own living; and 
that made them all feel proud of him. 

As they sat chattering about various things he took 
out the note and handed it to his father. The old man. 
looked at it with a troubled face. He thought David 
had been sent to collect the money. He shook his head 
sadly, and said he didn't have the money and could 
not see how he could get it. That was a proud and 
happy moment for David, but he tried to speak care- 
lessly: "You needn't bother about the money. The 
note's paid. I paid it myself and just brought it to you 
for a present." 

The hard old man knew that he had not been a very 



148 DAVID CROCKETT. 

good father to David, and he was so moved by this 
undeserved kindness that he shed tears. When David 
saw his father so overcome by his generosity he felt 
repaid for his six months' labor. 

He had now worked a year for his father, and, as he 
had had no money in all that time, his clothes were 
nearly worn out and too small for him. So he bar- 
gained to work for the Quaker for a suit of clothes. 

While he was doing that, a niece of the Quaker came 
to the house on a visit. She was a pretty girl and David 
fell in love with her. When he told her so, and asked 
her to marry him, she said she had promised to marry 
her cousin. The poor boy thought he never could be 
happy again. He could not be gay and light hearted. 
He became dissatisfied with himself He thought that 
if he had had some education the Quaker girl would 
have liked him better, and so he decided to go to school. 

He was seventeen years old, but had never attended 
school but four days in his life. He did not even know 
his letters. The Quaker was willing to give him his 
board and allow him four days a week for school if he 
would work for him the rest of the time. 

Poor David was a big fellow to start to school. But 
it was not unusual to find boys of his age in the A, B, C 
class at that time; for there were few schools, and many 
boys, like David, had had no chance to go to school 
when they were children. He tried hard and in time 
learned to write his name, to read from the primer, and 



A HIRED HAND. I49 

to work problems in addition, subtraction and multipli- 
cation. But he made slow progress and liked active life 
better than study. 

In the course of time he forgot his disappointment 
and began to enjoy life again. He was fond of fun and 
enjoyed dances, harvest frolics, and such rude backwoods 
amusements. He liked to hunt and was considered one 
of the best shots in the neighborhood. It was much 
easier for him to hit the center spot of a target than to 
get the correct answer to a problem in subtraction. 

One of his keenest pleasures was a shooting match. 
The good Quaker with whom he lived did not approve 
of this pastime, but David and the young men of his 
time thought there was no better sport. 

When a farmer wished to raise a little money he would 
put up one of his fine cattle to be shot for. Tickets 
were sold for twenty-five cents each, and one man could 
buy as many as he wished. Each ticket entitled the 
owner to one shot. Boards with crosses in the center 
served for targets. Every young man who could get a 
gun came to try his luck in winning a portion of the 
beef. 

The one who shot nearest the center was given the 
hide and tallow; the next got his choice of the hind- 
quarters of the beef; the third got the other hindquarter; 
the fourth was given his choice of the forequarters; the 
fifth took the remaining forequarter; and the sixth got 
the lead in the tree against which they shot. 



I50 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



David was very successful. He sometimes bought 
several tickets and won not only the first but several 
other portions of the beef. He could easily sell the 
meat for money. And you may be sure a youth who 
worked so hard and was paid so little was glad to hear 
silver clinking in his own pockets. 



V. — A Householder. 

In all the country there was no young man more 
popular than David Crockett. The old people liked 
him because he was honest, kindhearted, and industri- 
ous. The boys thought him the best company in the 
world, for no one could tell such a funny story, or 
invent such prime jokes. The girls admired him very 
much; for they liked to dance with the graceful youth 
who wore his tattered buckskin suit with the air of a 
prince. 

It is not surprising that after several disappointments 
he at last found a pretty little Irish girl about his own 
age, who loved him so much that she did not object to 
his poverty. His only possessions were the clothes on 
his back and an old horse he had bought with half a 
year's work. But he felt so rich in the love of the 
little maid that he did not think that the possession of 
houses and lands was at all necessary to happiness. 

After the wedding David took his bride to his 
father's house, where a large company had gathered to 



A HOUSEHOLDER. 



151 



welcome the young couple. They stayed there for a 
few days, and then returned to the bride's mother, who 
gave them a spinning wheel and two cows and calves 
for a wedding present. David rented a cabin and a few 
acres of ground near by and started farming. 

He had the horse and cows to begin with, but no fur- 
niture or tools. They could make chairs and tables and 
beds; and as for a stove 
there was no need of 
that, for everybody 
cooked by the fireplace 
in those days. The 
Crocketts' cabin w^as 
better fitted up than 
that of most young 
couples of that neigh- 
borhood. 

David's former em- 
ployer, the Quaker, gave him fifteen dollars, 
seemed like great wealth to David and his young bride. 
They went to the store together and bought pans, 
dishes, tools, and such other things as they needed, but 
could not make; and they soon had a cozy home. 

The little housewife was a beautiful weaver and her 
fingers were never idle. David worked on the farm and 
sometimes went hunting, but he had a hard time to 
make enough to pay his rent. 

A good many families were moving further west, and 




DAVID'S CABIN. 



This 



152 DAVID CROCKETT. 

David Crockett thought it would be a sensible thing for 
him to move also. It would be pleasanter to support 
his family by hunting than by farming. Game was, of 
course, more plentiful in the more unsettled parts of the 
state. 

It was little harder for people who lived as he did to 
move from one home to another than it is for Indians or 
Arabs to change their dwelling places. The few house- 
hold articles worth moving could be packed on two or 
three horses. The wife and the small children were 
made comfortable on the back of some old nag. The 
rest of the family could walk. Wagons were sometimes 
used; and in some places where roads had been made 
through the wilderness, long trains of movers might be 
seen making their way slowly towards the unsettled west. 

In fair weather the travelers spent the night under 
the open sky by a camp-fire, with perhaps a watchman 
to keep off wolves and mountain wildcats. If it rained 
a rude shed was made of tree boughs. A tender wild 
turkey browned over the wood fire furnished the hungry 
wayfarers with a delicious repast. When a spot was 
found that seemed good for a home, it required but a 
few days' work to clear a garden patch and make a 
"camp" or hut of logs. In thi-s way David Crockett 
moved several times. 

Hunting was then as profitable an occupation as 
farming, especially for a poor man who did not have 
money enough to buy good farming implements and 



A HOUSEHOLDER. 



153 



stock. Young Crockett was a fine hunter, and, after 
moving to his new home, he spent most of the time in 
scouring the woods for choice game or in dressing skins. 
The fame of his woodcraft and marksmanship spread 
through all that part of the country. 

This seems to us a shiftless way to live, but it was the 
best way those poor backwoodsmen knew. We are glad 



--^-■^ 



XT 



^^ 



-%Jf JT > 









A TRAIN OV MOVERS GOING WEST. 

they could be happy and contented with so little. We 
shall find that they were intelligent and brave, as well. 
When Crockett was living in Franklin County, Ten- 
nessee, trouble broke out between the Creek Indians 
and the white people. The Indians suddenly attacked 
the settlement at Fort Minns, in southern Alabama, 
and murdered about four hundred people. Men, women, 
and children were killed without mercy. This happened 



154 DAVID CROCKETT. 

far away from Crockett's home in Tennessee. He had 
no friends there to write to him about it. He had no 
daily paper and there was no telegraph then. But one 
man told another, and not many days passed before the 
lonely settlers on the remote frontier were talking over 
the terrible deed with fear and anger. 

David Crockett had always been opposed to war, but 
he was one of the first to volunteer to fight the Indians. 
When he told his wife that he was going to the war she 
urg-ed him not to leave her and her two little children 
alone in the wilderness. It was hard for him to with- 
stand her tears and entreaties. But he told her that no 
pioneers, not even they themselves, would be safe unless 
the Indians were punished. He reminded her that there 
was a good supply of meat and corn, sufficient to last 
till his return; and he said that he would probably be 
back safe and sound in two months. 

He did his best to comfort her, but never wavered in 
his determination to do what seemed as much his duty 
as any other man's. He could talk well, and his wife, 
who was really a brave, sensible woman, was soon won 
over to think as he did. Each went to work to provide 
for the other's comfort during the separation. 



VI. — A Soldier. 



The Tennessee boys proved to be the heroes of the 
war with the Creek Indians. In that war Crockett did 



A SOLDIER. 



155 



good service as a private soldier. He liked adventure, 
change of scene, and excitement, and the war offered 
these. Because of his skill with the rifle and knowledge 
of forest travel he was chosen as a member of a scouting 
party. 

This little band of men went before the army to see 
where the Indians were and what they were doing. 
The country was unknown to them, and they were in 
danger of falling into an ambush of Indians. It was 
hard to find the silent, swift-footed foe. But the scouts 
were helped by some of tlie Cherokee Indians who were 
friendly to the whites. 

When the scouts found a Creek village they sent word 
to the army. If the town was deserted when the 
soldiers reached it they plundered and burned it. But 
sometimes the soldiers came upon the towns before the 
inhabitants knew they were near. Then the troops 
surrounded the surprised savages. The Indians usually 
tried to break through the line of soldiers, and some- 
times did so. But generally the fire from the guns was 
so terrible that the Indians were driven back. They 
then rushed frantically against another part of the wall 
of soldiers, only to meet the same deadly fire. 

At one time when so many of the savages had fallen 
in this way that there was no hope of escape, the women 
and children asked for mercy and were made prisoners. 
But the warriors were too proud for that. Nearly forty 
of them crowded into a log house hoping to fight from 



156 



DAVID CROCKETT. 




that shelter. But the soldiers set fire to it and burned 
them, or shot them as they ran from the flames. 

The white people were so infuriated against the 
Creeks that they treated them as if they were wild 
beasts. Detachments of soldiers 
were sent out to scour the country 
for Creeks and destroy them by fair 
means or foul. 

While our soldiers caused great 
suffering they had a very hard time 
themselves. At times the Indians 
, .V , JC- surprised them. Once the famous 
1L3Mw General Jackson himself was almost 
defeated by them. But the enemy 
that gave the United States soldiers 
the most trouble was hunger. They were in the south 
far from any source of supplies. Before deserting a town 
the Indians destroyed their crops and provisions so that 
they would not fall into the hands of the white men. 
Therefore the soldiers got no food from the country 
through which they traveled. At times they had noth- 
ing to eat but acorns. Their horses became thin and 
feeble, and the men were nearly starved. 

David Crockett was not less cruel than others to the 
Creek Indians. But he did much to relieve the hard- 
ships of his fellow soldiers. He was always ready with 
a hearty laugh and a funny story to rouse their droop- 
ing spirits. By nature strong, patient, and generous, he 



INDIAN IN AMBUSH. 



A SOLDIER. 



157 



was able and willing to help those less fortunate than 
himself. 

Often he got permission to go hunting and risked his 
life alone in the forest. Men offered him large sums for 
the squirrels and wild fowls he brought back. But he 
refused their offers. He might have gained favor with 
his officers by giving them his game. Instead he gave 
all to some sick soldier or divided freely with his mess- 
mates. 

His popularity with the men, his good common sense 
and ability, might have secured him promotion to the 
rank of an officer, had it not been for the independent 
way in which he sometimes conducted himself 

At one time, becoming dissatisfied with the way in 
which the captain divided the scant provisions, he led 
his mess off in the night. It was a good thing for the 
starving men, for they found plenty of fat turkeys and 
some bee trees full of honey. The party rejoined the 
army with a fine buck, and just at the same time some 
men from the settlements arrived with a supply of 
corn. 

Crockett was one of the men who went home in spite 
of Jackson's order to stay in the field. The volunteers 
had served one month longer than the time for which 
they had enlisted. Their clothing was in tatters and 
their horses almost worn out. 

But Crockett was also one of the few who went back 
to the war. After visiting his family he supplied him- 



158 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



self with new clothes and a fresh horse and returned to 
the army to serve six months. 

In all he enlisted three times. The Indians were 
then so subdued that there were no more battles. 
Soldiering became very uneventful and uninteresting. 
Then Crockett was glad to go back to his cabin on the 
western frontier. 



VII. — A Leading Citizen. 
After so much roaming about, David Crockett was at 
last content to settle down to the quiet life of a farmer. 
For two years he worked away happily enough. Then 

a great sorrow came into his 
C- i life. His wife died, and all 

the cheer and comfort that had 
made home sweet to this rest- 
less man left the little cabin 
and it seemed a very poor 
place. 

There was no one now to 
object to his going to war; no 
one to welcome him when he 
came home. He missed the busy hum of the spinning- 
wheel. The room she had kept so tidy refused to look 
neat. The children were forlorn and dirty. They cried, 
and he could not comfort them. They quarreled, and 
he could not settle their disputes. He saw that he could 
not fill their mother's place. 




' IT SEKMED A VERY 
POOR PLACE." 



A LEADING CITIZEN. I59 

He felt helpless and homeless and began to think it 
would be best for him to marry again. This time he 
did not select a gay, dancing, rosy-cheeked girl, but 
a sensible, kindly woman, a widow with two children 
of her own. 

After his marriage, he wished to move again and 
start afresh. Having been pleased with the country he 
had passed through during the war, he organized a little 
party of friends and they started out to explore. When 
far from home in the wilderness he was taken ill with 
malarial fever. 

He did not lack for good care and kind, if clumsy, 
nursing. Those were days of true hospitality. The 
pioneer living alone in the forest had no neighbor on 
whom he could shift the respoiisibility of caring for the 
needy stranger. The sick man was received at the 
home of a backwoodsman and taken care of. He was 
ill for a long time. When he reached home at last even 
his wife was surprised to find that he was still alive. 

Soon after his recovery he moved to a famous 
hunting-ground in southwestern Tennessee that had 
been purchased from the Indians. At first there 
was no law or local government in the new settle- 
ment, and none was needed; for the few people who 
lived there were honest and industrious. But as the 
fame of the district grew, great numbers of settlers 
came. 

Some of these settlers were selfish and ready to take 



l6o DAVID CROCKETT. 

advantage of the weak. Some were wicked men who 
had come west to escape punishment and find new vic- 
tims to cheat. With such characters in the settlement 
trouble began, and some sort of government was needed 
to protect the good from the bad. 

The settlers met and chose officers to take charge of 
affairs. They selected good men and left them free to 
do whatever they thought was right. Thus the officers 
had great power. David Crockett was one of them. 
When word was brought to him that a man had stolen, 
or had refused to pay a debt, or had injured another in 
any way, he sent his constable after the offender. He 
listened attentively to both sides of the story. If he 
found the accused guilty he had him punished. 

Sometimes the punishments were very severe and 
humiliating. Whipping was very common. One of 
the most frequent crimes was pig-stealing. The pigs 
were marked and turned loose in the woods. They 
were an easy and tempting prey for the hungry man. 

During the time David Crockett served as officer no 
one ever questioned the justice of his decisions. He 
knew nothing about law. He could scarcely write his 
name; but he had a great deal of shrewdness and com- 
mon sense, and he understood the men among whom he 
lived. 

Later, when the settlement was recognized by the 
state, Crockett was appointed "squire" by the legis- 
lature. The work of his office became more formal. 



A LEADING CITIZEN. l6l 

He had to keep a book and write out warrants for 
arrests. At first he had to ask the constable for help in 
this. But now that he saw a use for writing he tried 
hard to learn and soon was able to write his own war- 
rants and keep his own books. 

When David Crockett started to do anything he was 
pretty sure to "go ahead." That was true of him in 
his boyhood when he ran away from his employer to go 
home, and again when he ran away from school and 
home. When he was older and began to work he went 
steadily ahead and gave his father double service. 
Then, as hunter and marksman, he had won dis- 
tinction as the bravest and most skillful. In the 
wars, his neighbors had been satisfied with two months 
of service, but he had enlisted three times. As a 
pioneer he had moved again and again; keeping always 
in the vanguard of civilization. 

It was still his disposition to make the most of his 
opportunities, and having gained some prominence 
among the settlers he became ambitious. He borrowed 
money and built a large grist mill, distillery, and 
powder factory. He was very popular among the 
backwoodsmen and was made colonel of a regiment 
of militia. He was ever afterwards called "Colonel" 
Crockett. 

His friends urged him to be a candidate to represent 
his district in the state legislature. He consented and 
gave his name as a candidate in February. In March 



l62 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



he went to North Carolina with a drove of horses, and 
was gone three months. 

When he returned home he went to work to secure 
his election. He knew nothing about government. 
He did not even know the meaning of the word. But 




CROCKETT'S FIRST SPEECH 

he knew that the men who did 
the voting understood as little about 
governmental affairs as he did. He 
knew also that most of them were 
willing to elect a man whom they could trust to take 
care of their political interests. So he sought to 
be popular with the voters. His reputation as a 
hunter, his ability to tell laughable stories, and his 
timely "treats" did more to win the good will of the 



A LEADING CITIZEN. 1 63 

voters than his rival's learned speeches. He was suc- 
cessful from the first. 

At that time people came from far and near to the 
political meetings and had a good time. The first one 
that Colonel Crockett took part in was held in Heck- 
man County. Both parties joined in a squirrel hunt 
that lasted two days. After the hunt, they were to have 
a great feast in the open air, and the party that got the 
smallest number of squirrels had to pay all of the 
expense. Crockett shot many squirrels in that hunt 
and his party brought in the largest number. 

The feast was to be followed by dancing, but as they 
lingered at the tables talking, some one called for a 
speech. Both candidates were present, but Crockett 
was called for first. This was new business for him. 
He liad never paid any attention to public speeches and 
did not know how to begin. He felt ill at ease and 
made excuses. But all clamored for a speech, and his 
rival was especially eager, for he knew Crockett was an 
ignorant man, and he wished to see him fail. 

Perceiving that he could not escape, he mounted the 
stump of an old forest tree and began. He told the 
people bluntly that he had come to get their votes and 
that if they didn't watch out he would get them too. 
Then he could think of no more to say. After making 
two or three vain attempts to go on with his speech he 
gave it up, saying that he was like a man he had heard 
about who was beating on the head of an empty barrel 



164 DAVID CROCKETT. 

by the road. A traveler passing by asked him what he 
was doing that for. He answered that there was some 
cider in the barrel a few days before, and he was trying 
to see if it was there yet. Crockett said that he was in 
the same fix. There had been a little bit of a speech in 
him a few minutes ago, but he couldn't get at it. At 
this the people all laughed. Then he told several funny 
stories. 

Seeing that he had made a good impression, he 
stopped. As he got down from the stump he remarked 
to those around him that he wasn't used to speaking, 
and his throat was so dry that he thought it was about 
time to take a drink. His friends gathered about him 
and he entertained them in true backwoods fashion, 
while his rival was left to make his speech to a slim 
audience. 

Before Crockett was called on to speak again he had 
the good fortune to hear several strong speeches on both 
sides. In that way he acquired some political ideas 
which he was able to mix with his funny stories in such 
a way as to make a very popular stump speech. When 
election day came there was good evidence of his suc- 
cess. He received twice as many votes as his com- 
petitor. 

He had a quick, active mind and, by listening to 
discussions and debates in the legislature, Crockett soon 
knew as much about public affairs as the other mem- 
bers. He was not at all timid, and spoke frequently. 



A BEAR HUNTER. 165 

His wit, his easy, familiar manners, his blunt, straight- 
forward ways, gained him many friends and admirers. 
He could argue as well with funny stories as most men 
could with sharp words. 

When the session closed and the members went to 
their homes in various parts of the state, they repeated 
his stories, and the name of " Davy Crockett" became 
known all over Tennessee. 



Vni. — A Bear Hunter. 

A heavy misfortune befell Colonel Crockett while he 
was in the legislature. His mills were washed away 
by a spring flood. He was obliged to sell all the prop- 
erty he had left to pay what he owed on the mills. 
Then he resolved to make another start in the world. 

With his little boy and a young man, he went farther 
west to look for a suitable location. He found a place 
that seemed to be what he wanted, on the Obion River 
not far from the Mississippi. The traveler was 
reminded by the yawning cracks in the earth, that a 
great earthquake had visited that section. There had 
also been a great storm or hurricane there not long 
before, and the fallen timber made a good retreat for 
bears. The region was almost uninhabited; but many 
Indians came there to hunt. It was wild enough to 
suit any hunter's fancy, and Crockett began to make 
preparations for the coming of his family. 



1 66 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



With the help of some passing boatmen who were 
taking a cargo of provisions np the river he hastily built 
a cabin. The men had to wait for the river to 
rise to take their boat up the shallow stream. They 
helped Crockett build his house and gave him some pro- 
visions, such as meal, salt, and sugar. 
In return for this, he went with 
them up the river and helped them 
unload their boat. 

He then went back to his new 
dwelling. He spent some time 
hunting deer and bears, clearing a 
garden, planting and tending his 
corn, and making rude furniture. 
When all was ready he returned for 
his wife and children. 

It seemed like old times to live 
in a little forest cabin, miles from any other white 
family, depending on the hunt for food and clothes. 
But since poverty made it necessary to live so humbly, 
David Crockett could take up the old life cheerfully. 
His patience and fortitude were as well displayed in the 
small things of life as in the great. 

That winter his supply of powder gave out. It was 
time to hunt. Then, too, Christmas was coming and 
the most glorious part of the Christmas celebration was 
the firing of Christmas guns. Clearly he must have 
some powder. 




HUNTING DEER. 



A BEAR HUNTER. I 67 

There was a keg full of powder that belonged to him 
at his brother-in-law's, who had settled about six miles 
from him. But the river was between them, and the 
country was flooded by the fall rains. In order to 
reach that keg of powder he would have to wade 
through water for a mile. There were four inches of 
snow on the ground, and the water was almost freezing 
cold. 

His wife begged him not to go. But it was of no use. 
He cut a stout stick to feel the way, so that he should 
not fall into a ravine or hole, and started. He waded 
through water almost up to his waist. Once in cross- 
ing a deep place on a floating log he fell into water neck 
deep. He was so cold that there was scarcely any feel- 
ing in his limbs. He tried to run when he got out of 
the water, but found that he could scarcely walk. Still 
he struggled on through five miles of rough forest, and 
at last reached his journey's end. 

After hot drinks and a night's rest, he awoke 
refreshed and well. A thin coat of ice was forming 
over the water, and he waited two days hoping it would 
become strong enough to bear his weight. The ice was 
not so heavy as he had hoped, but he knew that his 
wife would worry about him and that his children were 
without meat, and so he shouldered his keg of powder 
and went ahead. 

In some places the ice was thick enough to support 
him, but he could never tell at what moment or in how 



l68 DAVID CROCKETT. 

deep water it would break. When he fell through he 
had to take his tomahawk and cut a path for himself 
through the thin ice. 

He reached home safe, and you may be sure the 
Crockett family fired a merry salute to Christmas that 
year and feasted on juicy steaks of bear's meat and plump 
wild turkey. 

Bear hunting was Colonel Crockett's favorite sport. 
In one year he killed one hundred and five bears. The 
meat was considered a great delicacy, and bearskins 
were very useful to the hunter and brought a good price 
in the market. 

Then there was enough danger and excitement in 
hunting those great ferocious creatures to suit Crockett. 
He had several dogs, scarred like old soldiers from many 
a battle with the bears. They loved the sport as well 
as he did. He would tramp through the woods with 
Betsey (as he called his gun) on his shoulder, and Tiger, 
Rattler, and the rest of his dogs at his heels, until one of 
them got the scent of a bear. Then off it would go, fol- 
lowed by the others barking in full chorus. Crockett 
hurried after them, guided by their barking, and usually 
found them at the foot of the tree in which old bruin 
had taken refuge. 

He took careful aim, fired, and the great creature 
would come tumbling to the ground, sometimes dead — 
usually wounded. Then while the hunter was reload- 
ing his gun the nimble dogs would beset the enraged 



A BEAR HUNTER. 



169 



animal, biting it here and there but keeping out of the 
way of its sharp teeth and strong paws. 

If the bear was small the dogs would not give it a 




A. BEAR HUNT. 



chance to climb a tree, but would attack and pull it 
down before their master came up. In that case he 



lyo DAVID CROCKETT. 

would slip up quietly, put the muzzle of the gun against 
the bear and shoot, or draw his hunting knife and 
plunge it into his prize. 

He then went home, marking the trees with his toma- 
hawk so that he could find his way back with horses 
and men. The skin was dressed and the choice parts of 
the flesh were dried or salted down for food. 

The bear often led the dogs and men a hard chase 
through the thick cane and underbrush, and a faint- 
hearted hunter would call off his dogs in despair. 
Crockett rarely gave up. Occasionally he followed the 
game so far that he had to stay out in the woods alone 
all night. 

Once after a long chase he succeeded in killing a bear 
in the dark with his hunting knife after a hard tussle. 
Then he spent the rest of the night in climbing a tree 
and sliding down it to keep from freezing to death. 

In the winter time the bears go into winter quarters. 
They usually choose some place very hard to reach, 
like a hole in a dense canebrake or a hollow tree. 
Then the dogs worry them out of their snug quarters to 
some place where the men can shoot and handle them 
conveniently. 

Colonel Crockett did not spend all his time hunting 
bears in the cane. He was engaged in numerous enter- 
prises to increase his wealth; but none of them was suc- 
cessful. Once he tried to make some money by taking 
two boat loads of staves down the Mississippi to market. 



A CONGRESSMAN. 171 

But his men were unacquainted with the river. They 
could not manage the big boats. They had an accident, 
and Crockett lost his boats and his staves. 



IX. — A Congressman. 

David Crockett had gone into the wilderness to get a 
new start. He was not the man to lie around and wait 
for a job to turn up. He was poor and must earn a 
living. As he was a good hunter he found a hunting 
ground and went to work. He did it simply and natur- 
ally, without any idea of attracting attention by it. 

But this move made him more prominent than ever. 
People remembered the odd man who could tell such 
sound truths in such laughable stories and usually had 
his way and gained his point with a joke. When they 
asked what had become of him they were told that he 
was "hunting bears out in the cane." Then followed 
thrilling stories of his narrow escapes and the great 
bears he had taken. When he went to market to sell 
his skins people crowded around to see them and to 
hear his stories. 

It was no wonder that his friends wanted to send him 
a second time to the legislature. The opposing candi- 
date was a man of some wealth and culture known as 
Dr. Butler. He lived in a frame house, and in his best 
room had a carpet which covered the middle part of the 
floor. 



172 DAVID CROCKETT. 

The pioneers of that region had never seen a carpet 
and were ignorant of its use. One day the doctor in- 
vited some of them, whose votes he hoped to get, to 
come in for a friendly talk. They accepted his invita- 
tion, but could hardly be persuaded to set their feet on 
the wonderful carpet. They soon went away in no 
pleasant humor. 

"That man Butler," they said, "called us into his 
house and spread down one of his finest bed quilts for us 
to walk on. He only wanted to make a show. Do you 
think we'll vote for him? Not much ! Davy Crockett's 
the man for us. He ain't a bit proud. He lives in a 
log cabin without any glass for his windows, and with- 
out any floor but the dry ground. He's the best hun- 
ter in the world, and a first-rate man all round. We'll 
vote for him." 

And so the man of the people carried the day. At 
the election he had a majority of two hundred and forty- 
seven votes — and this was a great victory in that sparsely 
peopled district. 

His friends were now so proud of their "bear- 
hunter from the cane "that they wanted to send him 
to Washington to represent them in the national Con- 
gress. 

The first time he ran for that office he was defeated. 
He was bitterly disappointed. But he did not lose con- 
fidence in himself or in his friends. He said the elec- 
tion had been conducted unfairly. When the time for 



A CONGRESSMAN. 1 7-7 

the next Congressional election came aronnd he tried 
again. 

Crockett had two opponents, Colonel Alexander and 
General Arnold. Each was more afraid of the other 
than of Crockett. On one occasion all three had to 
make speeches. Crockett spoke first and made a short, 
witty speech. Colonel Alexander then made a long 
political speech. When Arnold spoke he made no ref- 
erence to Crockett's speech, but discussed all the points 
made by Alexander. While he was speaking a flock of 
guinea-fowls came near and made such a noise that he 
stopped and asked that they be driven away. When he 
had finished, Crockett went up to him and said in a loud 
voice: "Well, Colonel, I see you understand the lan- 
guage of fowls. You did not have the politeness to 
name me in your speech, and when my little friends, the 
guinea fowls, came up and began to holler ' Crockett, 
Crockett, Crockett !' you were ungenerous enough to 
drive them away." 

This amused the spectators very much, and they 
went away laughing and talking about Crockett's 
cleverness, and all forgot the long speeches of the other 
candidates. 

On election day Crockett was chosen by a large 
majority to represent one hundred thousand people in 
our national Congress. 

His fame had gone before him to the capital and he 
found himself the center of observation. He had too 



174 DAVID CROCKETT. 

miicli self-respect to feel uncomfortable or shy in his new 
surroundings. He was himself under all circumstances, 
and did not affect the manners of others. He saw 
that he differed from the men about him in many ways; 
but what of that? Their manners suited their lives and 
were the outgrowth of their habits; they were like the 
people they represented. His manners suited his life; 
they were the outgrowth of his habits; he was like the 
people he represented. He had nothing to be ashamed 
of. On the contrary, he was proud of himself. 

However, when the president of the United States 
invited him to dinner, the thought occurred to him that 
the table-manners of a huntsman, used to dining on a 
log in the forest, might not fit the presidential dining 
table. But he decided to watch the others and " go 
ahead." 

Of course the newspapers made a great many jokes 
about the uncouth manners of the backwoodsman and 
held him up for ridicule. But most of the jokes were 
made in the spirit of fun and only served to whet the 
curiosity of the readers, and make them wish to know 
more of the "gentleman from the cane," as he was 
called. 

At the close of his first term Crockett was re-elected. 
This time he gave the newspapers more to talk about 
than his bad manners. He had been sent to Congress 
by a people who regarded Andrew Jackson as their 
hero. Crockett had served under Jackson in the Indian 



A TRAVELER. 



^75 



wars and had been a Jackson man. But when Jackson 
was elected president, Crockett did not think some of 
his measures right and voted against 
them. He knew this would displease 
most of the men who had sent him to 
Congress, but he said he would not be 
bound by any man or party to do 
what he thought was wrong. By this 
time he was well acquainted with pub- *|^|^/^* ; ^ 
lie questions, and had strong convic- ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ 
tions as to his duty. He was inde- 
pendent of parties and men in his views. 

He was a candidate for the next election, but his 
turning against Jackson had made him so unpopular 
that, much to his disappointment, he was defeated. 




X. — A Traveler. 



After two years more of hunting in the backwoods, 
David Crockett was again returned to Congress by his 
district. It was during this term that he made his 
famous tour of the northeastern states. 

He started in the spring of 1834 and visited most of 
the large cities. On this trip he saw a train of railroad 
cars for the first time. This is his description of it: 

"This was a clean new sight to me; about a dozen 
big stages hung to one machine, and to start up hill. 



176 DAVID CROCKETT. 

After a good deal of fuss we all got seated and moved 
slowly off; the engine wheezing as if she had the tiz- 
zick. By and by she began to take short breaths, and 
away we went with a blue streak after us. The whole 
distance is seventeen miles and it was run in fifty-five 
minutes." 

Crockett received a warm welcome at Philadelphia. 
Thousands of people were at the wharf to meet him. 
When he stepped from the boat he was greeted with 
cheers and the waving of hats. Men came forward 
with outstretched hands, saying: "Give me the hand 
of an honest man." 

Colonel Crockett was not a modest man, but he was 
surprised and a little overcome by this reception. They 
put him into a fine carriage drawn by four horses, and 
drove him to a hotel. There was another crowd there, 
calling for a speech. He was so surprised that he could 
not make a long speech then, but after a few pleasant 
remarks he promised the people to talk to them on the 
following day if they cared to hear him. 

He received calls from many distinguished citizens. 
On the next day, when he stood before a vast crowd 
and looked into the expectant, friendly faces, he felt 
abashed for a moment. But some one shouted: "Go 
ahead, Davy Crockett." The sound of his old watch- 
word gave him courage and he went ahead and made a 
speech that did him credit. 

Some of the citizens presented him with a watch chain 



A TRAVELER. T77 

and seal. On the seal were engraved two race horses at 
full speed. Above them were the words "Go ahead." 
The young Whigs of Philadelphia gave him a fine 
rifle. 

He was received with great kindness in New York 
and Boston, where he was invited to banquets made in 
his honor, and taken around to see the sights of those 
great cities. At each of the places he made short 
speeches, greatly to the entertainment of his hearers. 
Harvard University had recently conferred the degree 
of LL. D. upon President Jackson ; and when Crockett 
was in Boston, he was invited to pay a visit to that 
famous seat of learning. 

"There were some gentlemen," he says, "who invited 
me to go to Cambridge, where the big college or univer- 
sity is, where they keep ready-made titles or nicknames 
to give to people. I would not go, for I did not know 
but they might stick an LL.D. on me before they 
let me go. . . . Knowing that I had never taken any 
degree, and did not own to any — except a small degree 
of good sense not to pass for what I was not — I would 
not go it. There had been one doctor made from Ten- 
nessee already, and I had no wish to put on the cap and 
bells. I told them that I would not go to this branding 
school ; I did not want to be tarred with the same stick ; 
one dignitary was enough from Tennessee." 

Crockett was astonished at the comfort and elegance 
of the homes of the eastern people, especially in New 



lyS DAVID CROCKETT. 

England where the land was so poor. For he 
was used to measuring people's wealth by the rich- 
ness of their land. The extensive shipping business 
of the coast cities was new to him and filled him with 
wonder. 

His eyes were open to all that was strange or new. 
He noticed the New York fire department, which was a 
great improvement on the bucket system to which he 
was accustomed. On visiting the blind asylum he was 
astonished to find that the blind were taught to read. 
Even the distribution of work seemed strange. It 
looked very queer to him to see New England women 
working in the factories and New England men milk- 
ing cows. 

Crockett visited several other cities. He found friends 
wherever he went, and he always left more than he 
found. He had many warm sympathizers and admirers 
in the northeast because of the stand he had taken 
against President Jackson. 

Some people were curious to see him because they 
had heard so much about him. He did not disappoint 
the curious. He could shoot as wonderfully as rumor 
had reported. His stories were as ludicrous and his 
grammar was as bad as any one had imagined. But at 
the same time his sense and sincerity won the good will 
and respect of those who laughed. 

He went back to Washington pleased with the East 
and the eastern people, and well satisfied with himself. 



A DARING ADVENTURER. I 79 

At the close of the session he returned to his Tennessee 
cabin to work for his re-election, proud of the honors he 
had received and sure of more to come. 



XL— A Daring Adventurer. 

David Crockett was greeted at all the large towns he 
passed through by crowds of people. They always 
wanted a speech and he was always ready to make one; 
for his head was full of ideas on public questions. He 
said some wise things. Men called him a great man 
and said he would be president some day. No doubt he 
thought that they were right. But in the meantime a 
seat in Congress was worth working for and much more 
certain. 

He made tours of his district, speaking to the people 
more earnestly than ever before. Though he knew 
that his enemies were working hard against him he felt 
sure of success. When the news came that he was 
defeated, he was almost crushed with disappointment. 
He was so deeply interested in politics, and so much 
better fitted for the position than ever before. It seemed 
cruel that, just at the time he felt most ready to help 
and be of real use, his services should be rejected. 

Hunting had lost its charm. He could not stay in 
the wilderness doing nothing. There was a war in 
Texas. The people were trying to throw off the gov- 



l8o DAVID CROCKETT. 

ernmeiit of Mexico. There was a field for action and 
glory. David Crockett resolved to go to Texas and 
help the people in their struggle for freedom. 

He arrayed himself in a new deerskin hunting suit 
and a fox-skin cap with the bushy tail hanging down 
behind. He was well armed with tomahawk, hunting 
knives, and his new rifle. His good wife in the dreary 
cabin bade farewell to her hero with tears. Her heart 
was full of regret for his past disappointment and full of 
fears for his future success. But he had not lost his 
happy faculty of turning his back on bad luck and 
going ahead. New sights soon made him forget the 
family parting, and even the bitterness of defeat wore 
off as he pressed forward, hoping for new and greater 
honors and victories. 

He stopped for two or three days at Little Rock,- 
Arkansas, where he was treated with great cordiality. 
A feast was made in his honor and when he left the 
town a company of men rode with him fifty miles. He 
rode across the country to Fulton, on the Red River, 
where he took a steamboat for the village of Natch- 
itoches. 

On the boat he met a curious vagabond who was 
gambling in a small way and winning money from the 
passengers by a game that he played with a thimble and 
some peas. He played this game so constantly that 
Crockett gave him the name of Thimblerig. 

Any one else in Crockett's position would have 



A DARING ADVENTURER. l8l 

scorned this trifler. But he was pleased with the fel- 
low's wit and good nature. He learned his history of 
idleness and wrong-doing, and persuaded him to go 
with him to Texas and at least die better than he had 
lived. 

At Natchitoches he met a handsome young man with 
a free, graceful bearing and a clear, ringing voice. He 
said that he was a bee hunter and had been over the 
Texas prairies many times. He wanted to go to the 
war, and hearing that Crockett was going had come to 
join him. 

The three men, well mounted on prairie mustangs, 
left Natchitoches in good spirits. They told stories, or 
the bee hunter sang spirited songs, as they rode along. 
The country was new to Crockett, and full of interest. 
Canebrakes, loftier than those "the gentleman from the 
cane" was accustomed to, crossed their way. In one 
place they rode through an avenue of cane, wide enough 
for two horses. The tall, slender rods of cane, each as 
long and slim as a fishing pole, fell towards each other at 
the top, making an arched roof that completely shut out 
the sun for a quarter of a mile. Wolves, wild turkeys, 
and droves of wild horses roused the instinct of the 
hunter. Crockett longed to have a buffalo hunt, but 
the bee hunter told him he would surely get lost if he 
attempted it. 

One noon as the travelers were resting in the shade of 
one of the little clumps of trees that dotted the great 



l82 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



prairies, David Crockett said he had made up his mind 
to have a buffalo hunt. The bee hunter said he thought 
they ought not to separate, and Thimblerig shook his 
head solemnly as he played with his thimbles and peas 
on the top of his old white hat. Suddenly the bee 
hunter sprang from the ground, where he had been 
lying gazing at the blue sky, jumped upon his mustang, 

and without a word 
started off, leaving his 
companions in wonder. 
He had seen a bee, and 
forgetting his advice to 
Crockett, had started 
off in quest of its hive. 
While his deserted 
companions were talk- 
ing over his strange 
conduct they heard a 
low rumbling. The sound grew louder and the earth 
trembled. The two men seized their weapons and 
sprang to their horses. A herd of five hundred buffaloes 
came careering towards them with the speed of the 
wind and the sound of thunder. 

The leader of the herd was an immense fellow with 
long mane almost sweeping the ground, and stout, bony 
horns ready to bear down everything that came in his 
way. 

' ' I never felt such a desire to have a crack at any- 




A BUFFAl^O BULL. 



A DARING ADVENTURER. I 83 

thing in my life," says Crockett. "The big buffalo 
drew nigh to the place where I was standing. I raised 
my beautiful Betsey to my shoulder and blazed away. 
He roared, and suddenly stopped. Those that were 
near him did likewise. The commotion caused by the 
impetus of those in the rear was such that it was a 
miracle that some of them did not break their heads or 
necks. The leader stood for a few moments pawing the 
ground after he was shot, then darted off around the 
clump of trees and made for the uplands of the prairies. 
The whole herd followed, sweeping by like a tornado. 
And I do say I never witnessed a sight more beautiful 
to the eye of a hunter in all my life." 

Colonel Crockett now realized that they were escap- 
ing from him and he could not resist the temptation to 
follow.- He reloaded his gun and started in full chase. 
He rode for two hours, but he could not keep pace with 
the fleet buffaloes. At length he lost sight of them. 
Then he gave up and began to think of his friend. 

In his attempts to go back by a short cut he lost his 
way entirely. The country was so fair and beautiful 
it was hard to realize that it was uninhabited. But 
Crockett looked in vain for signs of the hand of man. 
Seeing that he made no headway, he determined to find 
a stream and follow that. 

He soon came upon a herd of nuistangs. They no- 
ticed his horse and began to circle around it. The circle 
of prancing horses grew ever smaller and smaller until 



184 DAVID CROCKETT. 

Crockett found himself in the midst of the herd. His 
pony seemed to like the situation well enough and 
frisked and played with its new friends. Anxious to 
escape, Crockett plied the spurs without mercy and his 
horse darted forward to the front of the herd. A wild 
race followed. Every member of the herd strove to 
overtake the stranger, but encouraged by voice and 
spur, Crockett's mustang kept in the lead for some time. 
" My little mustang was full of fire and mettle," says 
Crockett, "and as it was the first bit of genuine sport 
that he had had for some time, he appeared determined 
to make the most of it. He kept the lead for full half 
an hour, frequently neighing as if in triunq^h and deri- 
sion. I thought of John Gilpin's celebrated ride, but 
that was child's play to this. The proverb says: ' The 
race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the 
strong,' and so it proved in the present instance. My 
mustang was obliged to carry weight, while his com- 
petitors were as free as nature had made them. A 
beautiful bay that had kept close upon our heels the 
whole way now came side by side with my mustang, 
and we had it hip and thigh for about ten minutes in 
such style as would have delighted the heart of a true 
lover of the turf. I now felt an interest in the race 
myself, and determined to win it if it was at all in the 
nature of things. I plied the lash and spur, and the 
little beast took it quite kindly, and tossed his head, 
and neighed, as much as to say, ' Colonel, I know what 



A DARING ADVENTURER. 185 

you're after — go ahead! ' — and he did go ahead in beauti- 
ful style, I tell you. ' ' 

At last, however, the, unburdened horses gained, and 
one after another galloped past. Crockett was not able 
to turn his horse from the race until they reached the 
brink of a river. Here the other mustangs leaped down 
the bank, plunged into the swift stream and galloped 
away on the other side. 

But Crockett's horse seemed too tired for the leap. 
It was utterly exhausted. He relieved it of its saddle 
and did what he could for its comfort. As evening was 
coming on he looked around for a safe place to spend 
the night. There was a large spreading tree near 
the river. He began to examine the tree to dis- 
cover its possibilities as a resting place. He was inter- 
rupted by an angry growl, and was startled to see, 
almost within reach of his arm, a huge cougar glaring 
at him. 

He stepped back hastily and shot at the beast. The 
ball struck the skull and bounded back, merely scratch- 
ing the skin. There was no time for reloading. The 
animal sprang at Crockett, but he stepped aside and it 
fell upon the ground. He gave it a blow with his rifle. 
The cougar turned upon him. He threw away his gun, 
drew his knife and stood ready to meet it. Then came 
a desperate struggle. He tried to blind the creature, 
but only cut its nose. He tripped on a vine and fell. 
The beast was upon him. It caught his leg. The 



1 86 DAVID CROCKETT. 

hunter grasped its tail and plunged his knife into its 
side. He tried to push it over the bank. Man and 
beast rolled down together. Fortunately Crockett was 
uppermost. Quick as thought his knife was buried in 
the creature's heart and he was safe. 

He looked at the dead cougar in silent thanksgiving 
for a moment, and then returned to the tree. He made 
a bed in its topmost branches by spreading a mat of the 
moss, that hung from the branches, upon a network of 
twigs. He threw his horse-blanket over the moss and 
had a comfortable bed; not a safe one, perhaps, but that 
did not disturb him. He soon fell asleep, and did not 
wake till morning. 

In the morning his mustang had disappeared. The 
thought of being alone in that wild country, without 
friend or horse, was not pleasant. While eating his 
breakfast he heard the sound of hoofs, and looking up 
saw a party of fifty Comanche Indians mounted and 
armed coming directly towards him. They looked very 
fierce and warlike, but proved to be friendly. Crockett 
asked them how they knew he was there. They pointed 
to his fire in answer. They asked about the big cougar 
that had been wounded so many times. When they 
heard the adventure they said, "good hunter," invited 
Crockett to join their tribe, and gave him a horse. 
He told them he could not stay with them, but 
would be glad to travel in their company as far as the 
Colorado River. 



A DARING ADVENTURER. 187 

Before they had gone far, they saw a herd of mustangs. 
One of the Indians rode towards them swinging his 
lasso. All fled but one little fellow. It stood still and 
ducked its head between its legs. It was easily taken 
and was found to be Crockett's horse. He was aston- 
ished, and wondered why it had allowed itself to be 
caught. The Indians explained that a mustang never 
forgets the shock of being thrown by a lasso and is 
so much afraid of one afterwards that it will never 
run from it. While on the march they saw many 
buffaloes and Crockett had the good fortune to shoot 
one. 

When they were nearing the river the alert Indians 
noticed a thin blue line of smoke curling up against the 
sky from a clump of trees. The whole party dashed to 
the spot. Whom should they find but Thimblerig 
playing his foolish game ? 

" The chief shouted the war whoop," says Crockett, 
"and suddenly the warriors came rushing in from all 
quarters, preceded by the trumpeters yelling terrifically. 
Thimblerig sprang to his feet and was ready to sink 
into the earth when he beheld the ferocious-looking fel- 
lows that surrounded him. I stepped up, took him by 
the hand, and quieted his fears. I told the chief that 
he was a friend of mine, and I was very glad to have 
found him, for I was afraid that he had perished. I now 
thanked the chief for his kindness in guiding me over 
the prairies, and gave him a large bowie-knife, which 



l88 DAVID CROCKETT. 

he said he would keep for the sake of the brave hunter. 
The whole squadron then wheeled off and I saw them 
no more." 

Thimblerig explained that soon after Crockett had left 
him the bee hunter had comeback with a load of honey, 
and thinking that Crockett was lost, they had started on 
to Texas without him. 

While they were talking the bee hunter arrived, 
bringing a fine turkey for supper. The three were glad 
to be together once more and went to work with a will 
to prepare a good supper. Thimblerig plucked the 
feathers from the turkey; Crockett made forked stakes, 
which he erected on either side of the fire, and sharpened 
a long stick. This was thrust through the bird and 
suspended on the forked stakes so that the turkey might 
be turned and browned evenly. The bee hunter brought 
fresh water and made coffee, and they had a merry 
feast. 



XII. — A Hero of the Alamo. 

These three men were shortly afterward joined by 
three others, who were going to the war. They were 
glad to have company, for they were getting so near the 
scene of war that they were in danger of meeting parties 
of Mexican scouts. 

They were all bound for the fortress of Alamo, just 
outside of the town of Bexar, on the San Antonio 



A HERO OF THE ALAMO. 189 

River. They kept on the lookout for the enemy, but 
did not encounter any until the last day of their journey. 
When within twenty miles of San Antonio they were 
attacked by fifteen armed Mexicans. They dismounted 
and stood back of their horses. From that position they 
returned the fire of their assailants with such effect that 
the party scattered and fled. They then went on their 
way without being further molested. 

They were received at the fortress with shouts of wel- 
come. The bee hunter was known and admired by 
many of the garrison, and all had heard of Colonel 
Crockett. Thimblerig, too, though unknown, was 
warmly welcomed. 

The town of Bexar, which is now known as San 
Antonio, was at that time one of the most important 
places in Texas. It had about twelve hundred inhabit- 
ants, nearly all of whom were Mexicans or of Mexican 
descent. It was held by a small band of Texan rangers, 
most of these being adventurers from the United States. 
Through the influence of such adventurers the Texans 
had declared their independence of Mexican rule and 
had set up a government of their own. This had of 
course brought about a war; the Mexican army had 
invaded Texas; and the scattered people of that great 
territory were forced to fight for their liberties. 

David Crockett was well impressed with the "gallant 
young Colonel Travis," who was in command of the 
fortress, and thought that he and his little band of one 



190 



DAVID CROCKETT. 



liundred and fifty soldiers would be a match for the en- 
tire Mexican army. He was glad also to meet Colonel 
Bowie, of Louisiana, and hear his tales of adventure 
and see him handle his famous knife. 

On the twenty-third of February the Mexican army 
marched against San Antonio. Their president, the 
cruel Santa Anna, was at their head. The impossibility 
of holding the town against such a host was apparent. 
The soldiers withdrew to the Alamo, as the fortress was 
called, and the troops of Santa Anna marched into the 
town carrying a red flag, to show that no quarter would 
be given to those who resisted. 

The little band of patriots did not lose heart. They 

raised their new flag — 
a great white star on a 
striped field — over the 
fort. While the flag 
was going up, the bee 
hunter sang: "Up with 
your banner. Freedom" ; 
then the drums and 
trumpets sounded. Santa Anna sent a message to 
Colonel Travis demanding the unconditional surrender 
of the fort. He was answered with a cannon shot. So 
the siege of the fort was begun. That night Colonel 
Travis sent a messenger to Colonel Fanning asking 
aid. But, even if thecolonel had received word in time, 
he would have been unable to send assistance to the 




^_y^ 



THE ALAMO. 



A HERO OF THE ALAMO. I9I 

beleaguered fortress. The little garrison must defend 
themselves as best they could, and with small hope of 
success. 

The Mexicans cannonaded the Alamo from various 
points. One morning Crockett was awakened by a shot 
against the part of the fort in which he was sleeping. 
He dressed hurriedly and ran to the wall, gun in hand. 
He saw that, opposite the fort, a cannon had been 
charged and the gunner was stepping up with lighted 
match. 

Crockett took careful aim, fired, and the man 
fell. Another took his place. Thimblerig, who was 
with Crockett, handed him another rifle. The second 
gunner met the same fate. Five men tried in turn to 
light that cannon. All fell before the deadly fire of 
Crockett. The others were seized with fear and ran off, 
leaving the loaded cannon. The sharpshooters of the 
fort kept watch, and any one venturing within gunshot 
of the fort had little chance of escaping. 

There were occasional skirmishes, as when the mes- 
senger sent out by Colonel Travis returned pursued by 
the enemy. The bee hunter saw and, calling to some 
of his friends to follow, rushed out to help him. 
The brave fellow succeeded in driving back the 
Mexicans, but he received his death wound in the 
fray. 

Day by day, the fortunes of the besieged grew darker 
and darker. There was no hope of aid. Food and 



192 DAVID CROCKETT. . 

water failed them. The force of the enemy increased 
constantly, and the attack upon the Alamo became more 
and more determined. 

David Crockett kept a journal of the daily happen- 
ings in the fortress. On the last day of February he 
wrote: " I^ast night our hunters brought in some corn 
and had a brush with a scout from the enemy beyond 
gunshot of the fort. They put the scout to flight and 
got in without injury. They bring accounts that the 
settlers are flying in all quarters in dismay, leaving their 
possessions to the mercy of the invader. Buildings have 
been burnt down, farms laid waste, and Santa Anna 
appears determined to verify his threat to convert this 
blooming paradise into a howling wilderness." 

On the sixth of March the entire army attacked the 
Alamo. The resistance was desperate. When the fort 
was taken only six of its defenders were living. Crock- 
ett was one of these. He was found in an angle of the 
building behind a breastwork of Mexicans whom he had 
slain. A frightful gash in his brow made him look grim 
and terrible. His broken musket was in one hand and a 
bloody knife in the other. Poor Thimblerig was found 
dead not far from him. It is said that in this assault 
upon the Alamo the Mexicans lost more than a thousand 
men. 

The six prisoners were taken before Santa Anna. 
Crockett strode along fearless and majestic. Santa Anna 
was displeased that the prisoners had been spared so long. 



A HERO OF THE ALAMO. I93 

He frowned, and said he had given other orders con- 
cerning them. The swords of his men gleamed and 
they rushed upon the unarmed prisoners. The daunt- 
less Crockett gave the spring of a tiger toward the dark 
leader, Santa Anna. But before he could reach him he 
had been cut down by a dozen swords. 

Crockett had had no thought of such an ending of 
his Texas expedition. But as the dangers had increased, 
he expressed no regret that he had come. He displayed 
the utmost devotion to the cause of the Texans. His 
last written words were: " Liberty and independence 
forever!" At the time of his death he was not quite 
fifty years old. 

In studying the life of this remarkable man we 
must always keep in mind the fact that he had no 
opportunities when a boy to improve his mind. He 
grew up among ignorant people, and knew but very little 
about the refinements of civilized life. He was there- 
fore rough and uncouth in manners, and lacked the 
polish of the gentleman. He was naturally a man of 
strong character; and whenever he undertook to do a 
thing he devoted all his energies to it and never gave 
up until he succeeded. He was very vain of his own 
achievements, and for this we may pardon him when 
we remember how much he accomplished with so little 
capital. 

In 1834, less than two years before the tragic close of 
his career, Crockett had written and published a highly 



194 DAVID CROCKETT. 

entertaining history of his own life. It was full of 
grammatical blunders and of misspelled words, even 
after it had been revised and corrected by his more 
scholarly friends; but as the work of a man wholly 
without school education it was not discreditable. On 
the title page of the little volume was the motto which 
he had adopted as the guiding principle of his life. 
Although he may have often failed to observe this 
motto as wisely as could have been wished, it is well 
worth repeating and remembering. It is this: 

" I leave this rule for others when I'ni dead; 
Be always sure you're right -THEN GO AHEAD! " 



THE STORY OF 

KIT CARSON 



By Frances M. Perry 




KIT CARSON. 



KIT CARSON 

THE HERO OF THE ROCKIES 



I. — Preparation. 

One afternoon, many years ago, a slender youth was 
sitting at work in a dingy little harness shop in the 
backwoods of Missouri. He plied the awl quickly and 
drew up his stitches with energy. There were no 
blunders, no halts in his work. 

His master cast a pleased glance at the apprentice and 
left the shop. "That boy does get mightily interested in 
his work," thought he. But the boy was not half so 
intent upon his work as he seemed to be. It was not 
pride in the beautiful piece of harness he was finishing 
that made his blue eyes sparkle so. His thoughts that 
afternoon were far away on the rolling prairies and the 
rugged slopes of the Rocky Mountains. 

Young Christopher Carson had inherited a love for 
the wild, free life of a hunter. His father had been one 
of the pioneers of Kentucky. But the boy had for- 
gotten the old Kentucky home in Madison County, 
where, in i8og, he was born. For, while he was a baby, 

197 



1 98 KIT CARSON. 

the family had left it to follow the wild deer to the fron- 
tier of Missouri. 

Mr. Carson had joined a settlement in Howard 
County. At first the settlers had to live in a log fort for 
protection from the Indians. Day and night, watch- 
men were on the lookout for savages. 

lyittle Christopher, or Kit, as he was called, was 
brought up amid the excitement of hunters' camps and 
Indian raids. The warwhoop was as familiar to him as 
the sound of the school bell was to the little boys of New 
England. The bark of the gaunt, gray wolf startled 
him no more than the yelp of a stray dog frightens you. 

He played hide and seek with the squirrels and ran 
races and practised "running-high-jumps" with the 
wild deer. Mounted bareback on his Indian pony, he 
bounded over the prairies neck and neck with the 
buffaloes. 

His teachers were sun-browned, hard-faced hunters 
and trappers who came to the fort with great bundles of 
furs. They were dressed in deer skins, and carried big, 
fierce-looking knives in their belts and heavy guns on 
their shoulders. Sometimes one or two fresh Indian 
scalps, tied to their hunting pouches, dangled at their 
sides. 

They told wonderful stories of adventures with 
Indians and wild beasts. From his earliest years little 
Kit listened to them with wide-eyed wonder and delight. 
When they noticed his interest they were amused, and 



PREPARATION. I99 

let him handle their hunting knives, and look at their 
trophies. 

One day when he was a very little fellow one of them 
held his gun in position and let Kit pull the trigger. 
He was not at all frightened by the noise and flash, but 
wanted to do it again and yet again. After that the one 
wish of the boy's heart was to know how to use a gun. 
He soon learned to shoot and became a good marksman. 

Friendly Indians taught him many of the mysteries 
of the woods. He was quick to learn their language 
and could talk to the Indian children in their own 
tongue. 

He was useful about the fort. All felt that Kit 
Carson could be depended on. He was sometimes 
chosen for responsible duties and sent to the hilltop to 
watch for hostile Indians while the men worked in the 
field. Often his signal gun-shot carried timely warning 
of coming danger to the workmen. 

As he grew older his interest in the life of the 
prairies and mountains increased and he listened with 
greater eagerness to the tales of the trappers. In that 
way he learned much about the country and the hard- 
ships and dangers to be encountered by those who made 
their living in the wilderness. When listening to their 
stirring stories he sometimes thought that the old 
hunters had acted unwisely, but he was too modest to 
say so. He only pictured to himself what he would 
have done had he been in their places. 



200 KIT CARSON. 

As the settlements in the neighborhood increased, the 
danoer and excitement became less and less. The 
wild animals withdrew with the Indians. The settlers 
put aside the gun and took up the spade and the ham- 
mer. They lived more quietly and regularly, and pre- 
pared their sons to be farmers, smiths, carpenters, 
saddlers, and merchants. 

Mr. Carson had a large family to support and start in 
life. When Kit was fifteen years old he decided to 
have him learn harness-making. That was a good 
trade; then, too, it was a work well suited to a little, 
nimble fellow like Kit. Not far away was a good 
saddler, whose name was Mr. Workman. He wanted a 
boy to help him, and was glad to get such an intelli- 
gent, industrious lad as Kit. 

An agreement was made between Mr. Carson and this 
man that Kit should work for him for two years. In 
return for his labor Kit would be taught the trade and 
receive his board. At the end of two years he would be 
free to work for money. If his master was satisfied with 
his work, he would offer him employment in his own 
shop, or give him a good recommendation to some other 
saddler. 

Kit's two years of apprenticeship were now nearly 
over. He had been faithful and painstaking, and as a 
result he was a good workman. His master was well 
pleased, and he would have no trouble to get work if he 
wanted it. Best of all, Kit was satisfied. He knew 



GETTING A START. 20I 

that he had succeeded. He had pleased others and he 
now felt free to please himself. " If I have done well in 
this work which I do not like," thought he, "I shall 
surely do better in the work I love." 

He did not intend to practise his trade, but his time 
had not been wasted. The patience and self-control 
that he had gained by doing cheerfully and thoroughly 
his unwelcome duty, would help him in whatever work 
he should undertake. 

This afternoon while he worked he painted the future 
in glowing colors. When the last stitch was taken, he 
tossed back his long bright hair and gave a sigh of 
relief. He got up briskly and put the shop in order. 
Then he went to supper with a light heart. 



n. — Getting a Start. 

At last the long two years of saddle-making were at 
an end and Kit Carson was his own master. 

He seized the first opportunity to get acquainted with 
the prairies. A party was being organized to start to 
Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico. He applied to 
the leader for admission. His reputation as a hunter 
was so good that no objection was made to his youth, 
and he was admitted to the party without hesitation. 

This was in 1826. At that time there were no 
definite routes marked out for travelers on the plains. 



202 



KIT CARSON. 




TRAPPERS CROSSING THE PLAINS. 



GETTING A START. 



203 



The few who crossed them tried to conceal rather than 
mark their course. To reach Santa Fe the party 
would have to travel across hundreds of miles of almost 
trackless prairie. 

The wildness of the land gave them one advantage. 
The country was so abundantly supplied with game 
that it was not necessary to take many provisions for 
the journey. Their rifles would supply them with good 
food. But wherever game was plentiful Indians also 
were likely to be met with. Sometimes large companies 
of them surrounded and overpowered small parties of 
trappers or traders, seized their horses and goods, and 
put the men to death or left them, without horse or gun, 
to starve in the wilderness. 

Young Carson understood fully the risks and dangers 
of traveling on the plains. But he also knew that with 
proper care many misfortunes might be avoided, and 
with courage and promptness others could be overcome. 
The company he joined was made up of men of experi- 
ence and courage. 

Could we have seen that caravan of sun-browned 
huntsmen winding across the plains we should have 
thought it very picturesque. The men wore suits of 
dressed deerskin trimmed in gaily dyed fringes and bead 
embroidery. Every man was well armed and rode a 
spirited horse. Some led pack mules or unmounted 
horses. They marched in single file like the Indians. 
This was a saving of strength. For those who rode first 



204 KIT CARSON. 

broke the way and a beaten path was formed for those 
in the rear. Then, too, from such a path the enemy 
could tell nothing about the number of riders in the 
company. 

At the head of the line rode the bugler. His merry 
bugle calls told any members of the party who had 
strayed off to hunt where to find their comrades. The 
young men awoke the echoes with Indian warwhoops 
and loud laughter. An occasional gun-shot announced 
the untimely death of a bold wolf or an unwary turkey. 
A few covered wagons closed the procession. 

The watching Indian scouts saw the good horses and 
longed to take them. But they noted the number of 
men; they saw them shoot with their terrible guns; they 
noticed what careful guard they kept night and day; 
and they feared to attack them. 

The party had not been on the march many days be- 
fore Kit Carson discovered that there is another kind of 
courage than that required to face Indians. One of 
the men had accidentally shot himself in the arm. In 
order to save his life the arm had to be cut off. Kit 
Carson was chosen to help in this painful operation. A 
razor, a saw, and a red-hot wagon-bolt were the only 
instruments these rough surgeons had. But they did 
their best. Kit did his part with gentle firmness. 
The operation was successful and the man recovered 
rapidly. 

Day after day the cavalcade toiled along over the vast 



GETTING A START. 



205 



green sea of grass. Sometimes they followed an Indian 
trail or a track made by the buffaloes. Again, they 
launched out boldly over land that the foot of man had 
never trod. They forded rivers, climbed ridges, and 
skirted shady groves, but most of their way lay over 
sunny plains. 

Having safely reached Santa Fe, Kit Carson made up 
his mind not to go back to Missouri. He left his com- 
rades and pushed on 
eighty miles to Taos, a 
trading station for trap- 
pers. It was not an 
attractive place. The 
narrow streets lined 
with mud huts offered 
little encouragement to 
the ambitious youth. 
But he met there an 

old trapper whose name was Kincade. This man liked 
Kit so well that he invited him to spend the winter 
with him. 

The daily work of examining traps and furnishing 
game for table use did not take all of their time. But 
Carson was never idle. He had found a new teacher. 
This friend could teach him Spanish. A knowledge of 
the Spanish language would be useful to him among the 
Mexicans. So he studied hard. Kincade had trapped 
in the Rocky Mountains, and Kit learned all he had to 




2o6 KIT CARSON. 

tell about the mountain passes, the climate, the haunts 
of the beaver, and the friendly and unfriendly tribes of 
Indians in the vast unknown country to the north. 

When spring came Carson met with discouragement. 
He had no money and could get no work. He 
determined to go home, earn something and start out 
trapping on his own account. He joined an eastward 
bound party of traders and started reluctantly homeward. 

When half-way across the prairies, he met some 
traders going to Santa Fe. They engaged him to hunt 
for them and he gladly turned his steps back towards 
the great Southwest. 

Again he found disappointment and disagreeable 
work. He was engaged as teamster, and traveled as far 
south as El Paso in Mexico. As the wagon joggled 
slowly along he dreamed of buffalo hunts and Indian 
fights, and made up his mind that, come what 
might, he would not go east until he had tried the 
hunter's life. 

Had he not been very resolute he would have gone 
home that fall, for he could find nothing to do but to 
serve as cook in the household of Mr. Young, a wealthy 
trapper. He was nearly discouraged that winter. He 
used to smile grimly as he watched the hand that he 
had hoped to see scalping Indians nimbly peeling pota- 
toes. When he made a successful raid on the rats in 
the corn bin he sighed to himself and said, "And these 
are poor Kit's buffaloes!" 



TRAPPING IN CALIFORNIA. 20/ 

In the spring, seeing no chance to improve his 
fortunes, he gave up hope, and for the second time 
started for home with a heavy heart. A second time he 
met a party bound for Santa Fe. They offered him 
employment and, in spite of his many disappointments, 
he retraced his steps, faintly hoping that this time he 
would succeed. 

At last fortune seemed to favor him. He was 
employed as interpreter in an expedition to Chihuahua, 
Mexico. There a man who was going to the copper 
mines near the Rio Gila, saw Kit and hired him to go 
with him as teamster. When he at last got back to 
Taos he found the opportunity for which he had waited 
so long. 



III. — Trapping in California. 

While at Taos Kit Carson had seen many brave 
trapping parties on their way to the mountains. He 
had urged every leader to give him a chance to show 
what he could do. But his slight boyish frame and 
gentle voice and manner were against him. The stal- 
wart Nimrods of the west were not willing to have their 
movements hampered by young and inexperienced men, 
and poor Kit was repeatedly refused. 

Now, however, Mr. Young was collecting a large 
party to trap in a neighborhood of powerful and un- 
friendly Indians. The last company he had sent out 



2o8 KIT CARSON. 

had failed, having been overpowered by savages. Mr. 
Young knew that Carson wastrnstworthy, brave, and per- 
severing. He knew, too, that he was a good hunter and 
a good cook. Such a man would be of use in many 
ways in his large company. So, at last, Kit Carson 
was made a member of a real trapping company. 

This company of forty men under the leadership of 
Mr. Young started in April, 1829, o^^ ^ long and event- 
ful expedition. Kit Carson was just twenty years old. 
The old hunters looked upon the "youngster" with 
some disfavor at first. But that did not mar his sat- 
isfaction, for he knew that he could win their good 
will. 

On the march and in camp a careful guard was kept. 
vScouts were sent ahead of the company to look for signs 
of Indians. Sentinels were stationed at camp, night 
and day. When the trappers reached Salt River the 
scouts reported signs of the enemy. They soon discov- 
ered that they were about to meet the same Indians 
who had attacked and killed the last party of 
trappers. 

Mr. Young concealed most of his men in a thicket. 
When the Indians saw the little band with which he 
then advanced towards them, they rushed upon him, 
confident of victory. The valley resounded with their 
blood-curdling warwhoops. Their wild faces, smeared 
with war paint, were fearful to look at. Their arrows 
gleamed in the sun. The trappers had seen Indian war- 



TRAPPING IN CALIFORNIA. 



209 



riors before. They knew that one good gun was worth 
many bright-pointed arrows. But they turned and fled 
to the thicket. The Indians thought they were afraid 
and followed. 

They were close upon the heels of the flying men. 
Victory seemed within reach. A shower of arrows fell 
among the bushes. In 
answer the thicket 
blazed with gunpow- 
der. The yell of 
triumph was drowned 
in the angry crack ol 
rifles. Clouds of smoke 
hid the scene. The 
gasp of death, the 
neighing of riderless 
horses, the click of the 
reloading of guns, told 
the Indians of their 
fatal mistake. They 
fled with haste and fear. 
They left behind them 
fifteen of their leadinsf 
braves, who had fallen under the fire of Young's trap- 
pers. 

The Indians were afraid to attack the trappers again. 
But they watched them from a distance, stole their traps, 
and tried at nio^ht to steal their horses. 




TRAPPING IlN A MOUNTAIN STREAM. 



2IO KIT CARSON. 

When the trappers reached the headwaters of the San 
Francisco River in Arizona, Mr. Young divided his 
party. He sent the larger division back to Taos to sell 
the beaver fur they had taken and get more traps. 
With the remaining eighteen he started towards the 
Sacramento River in California. He kept Kit Carson 
with his company. 

They were now traveling among friendly Indians. 
From them they learned that the valley of the Sacra- 
mento was beautiful and fertile and full of beavers. 
But they were told that to reach it they must go through 
a desert country without grass, or water, or wood. No 
deer or buffalo ranged there, and any man who ven- 
tured thither was likely to die of thirst and hunger. 

Before undertaking this journey through an unex- 
plored country, the party camped for a few days. The 
horses ate and rested. The men hunted. They found 
three deer. They smoked the meat, and sewed the 
skins into water-bags. 

When all was ready the little band of eighteen men 
started across the great unknown desert. A waste of 
sand where only the prickly cactus and the dull green 
sage bush grew, stretched before them. All day long 
they traveled without water. When night came the 
leader gave each man and animal a small portion of 
the water they had brought with them. They had no 
fear of the Indians here. They kept guard, not to 
watch for red men, but to see that no accident 



TRAPPING IN CALIFORNIA. 211 

befell the water, which was more precious to them than 
gold. 

At the close of the fourth day the thirsty and 
weary riders were surprised to see their mules stretch 
out their necks, sniff the air, and quicken their 
speed. An hour's eager trot brought them to a 
stream of fresh water. They camped by the stream for 
two days. How good it seemed to have enough water 
to drink ! 

Having had a good rest and recovered their strength, 
they renewed their journey across the desert. At the 
close of the fourth weary day they reached the Colorado 
River. They made a comfortable camp on its banks. 
Some Mohawk Indians sold them an old horse. They 
hastily killed and roasted it, and rejoiced over a feast 
of cold water and tough horse flesh. 

The hard journey across southern California was made 
lighter by meeting with occasional streams of flowing 
water, and after a difficult but safe march the party 
reached a Roman Catholic mission station in the beau- 
tiful, fruitful valley of San Gabriel. The Indians 
around the mission had been taught to farm. The fer- 
tile fields were full of waving grain. The trees bent 
under their loads of fruit. The hill-slopes were dotted 
with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. 

The hungry white men longed for all these good 
things. They had little to offer in exchange for them. 
But prices were low where there was so much to be 



212 KIT CARSON. 

eaten and where there were so few to eat. Four butcher 
knives bought a fine steer. 

The trappers had reached a land of plenty. Water, 
grass, and game made their lives happy once more. The 
streams were full of beavers, and as the party journeyed 
slowly north, down the San Joaquin River, their packs 
of furs grew steadily larger and larger. The once 
half-starved men grew fat and happy. 

When the trapping season was over, the party went 
into summer camp on the lower Sacramento. They 
spent the season hunting. Deer and antelopes roamed 
everywhere. 

Kit Carson's dreams were at last fulfilled. He had 
shown his power of endurance. In the long, hard march 
across the desert none had been more patient and 
uncomplaining than "the new hand." Now he 
could prove his skill in hunting. His success was 
astonishing. He soon gained the name among even 
those tried mountaineers of the best hunter in camp. 
Not only was he the best shot, but he knew more about 
the habits and haunts of animals than others. He was 
more wary and cunning in approaching them. 

This seems enough experience and reputation for a 
twenty-year-old youth to gain on one trip; but even 
greater opportunities came to Carson on his first trap- 
ping expedition. 

A priest of San Raphael sent to the trappers, asking 
them to help his men take some Indian evil-doers who 



TRAPPING IN CALIFORNIA. 



213 



had found refuge in a strong Indian village. Twelve of 
the trappers answered the call. They chose Carson 
leader, and with the priest's men advanced to the strong- 
hold of the Indians. The savages refused to give up 
the culprits. An attack was then made upon their vil- 
lage, and they were soon obliged to change their minds. 
Having lost one third of their men in battle the Indians 




INDIANS STAMPEDING HORSES 



gave up their friends, and Carson and his men went 
back to their camp in triumph. 

Good fortune made the trappers careless. One night 
they neglected to keep camp-guard. While they were 
all asleep, some daring Indians came into the camp and 
drove off sixty horses. When the trappers discovered 
their loss they were filled with regret and anger. How 
could they replace their horses? Mr. Young decided 



214 KIT CARSON. 

to regain them if possible. "We'll see what Kit Carson 
can do with the thieves," he said. So he, with twelve 
men, was sent to recover the horses. 

Carson was as clever in tracing an Indian trail as in 
tracking the deer, and it was not hard to follow the path 
of an Indian band and sixty horses even among the wind- 
ing passes of the Sierra Nevadas. As they rode mile after 
mile some thought the chase hopeless. Carson was not 
the man to fail where success was possible. After a 
hundred miles of mountain riding, he came upon the 
thieves feasting on horse flesh. They were having a 
good time and had no thought of danger. Carson and 
his men made a sudden dash and took them completely 
by surprise. Eight were killed at the first fire, and the 
rest ran howling into the woods. Carson's party col- 
lected the stolen horses and hastened back to camp. 
When the other trappers saw them coming with all the 
horses, they expressed their joy in loud shouts of wel- 
come. 

Kit Carson was now looked upon as one of the most 
valuable men in camp. His advice was asked on affairs 
of importance, and the leader showed him many marks 
of respect. Yet he was so simple and modest and 
pleasant that no one thought of being jealous of the 
young hero. Indeed, they all felt very proud of him, 
and talked about his adventures as proudly as if they 
had been their own. 

The mission station of San Raphael was not very far 



THE SECOND EXPEDITION. 2I5 

from the camp. Mr. Young was so fortunate as to meet 
there the captain of a trading vessel, who gave him a 
good price for the beaver skins of the company. 

In September the trappers started home, trapping as 
they went. Their homeward route was about the same 
as that by which they had gone to California, But they 
spared themselves the hardest part of the desert ride by 
following the Colorado down to the Gila and then going 
up that river. This was a gain in more ways than one; 
for they trapped down the Colorado and up the Gila, 
taking many skins. ~ 

The entire expedition was a success. Each member 
of the company got a large sum of money from it. No 
one grudged Kit his share. But he would have been 
satisfied with much less. He scarcely knew what to do 
with so much money. 

He saw that his friends spent their portions in drink- 
ing and gambling. He did not care for such pastimes, 
but he did want to be a trapper and do just as trappers 
did. So he imitated the bad habits of his friends and 
lived as foolishly and wickedly as they did until the fall 
of 1830. Then the money was all spent. 



IV. — The Second Expedition, 
Mr, Fitzpatrick, a noted mountaineer, was ready 
to start north with a few comrades to take beaver in 
the streams of the Rocky Mountains, Carson joined 



2l6 KIT CARSON. 

his company. He had no trouble to gain admission. 
He had made such a reputation on his first trip that he 
was now sought by many companies. 

He was glad to get away from the rum dens of Taos. 
As he bounded over the great plains toward the wild, 
majestic mountains, his blood tingled with a real joy, 
beside which the pleasures of his winter's debauch at 
Taos seemed low and mean. He shuddered with dis- 
gust to think of it, and resolved never to pass another 
season as he had spent the last. 

The party traveled northward rapidly, following the 
rivers that wound through the maze of mountains. 
They began trapping along the head-waters of the 
Platte River in what is now Wyoming. They followed 
the Sweet Water through the famous South Pass, and 
trapped along the Green River. They camped for the 
winter on the Salmon River among the fierce and 
troublesome Blackfeet Indians. 

The next spring, Carson joined another company 
with which he worked his way southeast to the head- 
waters of the Arkansas. While they worked there 
cold weather came on, the streams were frozen over, and 
trapping for that season was ended. 

The winter spent on the Arkansas was very severe. 
The men had plenty of food and plenty of wood for 
fires. They had warm blankets, too, in which they 
wrapped themselves Indian fashion. But the animals 
suffered from the cold. The snow was deep, and they 



THE SECOND EXPEDITION. 



217 



had so little to eat that they grew thin and weak. The 
men cut the bark and twigs from the sycamore trees 
and fed the poor beasts with them; for there was noth- 
ing else. 

One night in January, fifty 
Crow Indians visited the camp 
and stole nine horses. When 
Carson learned of the deed, he 
called to the men to follow him, 
and without waiting to see how 
many answered the call, has- 
tened to saddle his horse. All 
understood that he intended to 
hunt for the thieves. Twelve 
rose to go with him. 

It was not hard to find the 
path of the Indians in the snow. 
But it was hard to keep it; for 
a large herd of buffaloes had 
crossed and recrossed it until 
in many places it was com- 
pletely blotted out. The horses 
were so weak that after the 

trappers had ridden forty miles they were obliged to 
halt. As they were looking for a good place for a 
camp they noticed smoke rising from a clump of trees, 
and were rejoiced to find that they had overtaken the 
horse-thieves. 




TRAPPING IN WINTER. 



2l8 



KIT CARSON. 



Since their success depended upon their ability to 
surprise the Indians, they hid themselves with all haste 
and waited for darkness. When night came and they 
ventured forth, they found the Indians dancing and 
howling about a great fire. They were making merry 
because of the way they had outwitted the whites. 
There were many of them and they had built two rude 





<•- =:; *^^ -jjf t^r ~'^' 



THE INDIANS DANCING. 



forts. Since the enemy seemed so strong, Carson 
thought it best to wait till they had gone to sleep before 
making an attack. 

It was a long wait in the cold; for the Indians were 
in high glee, and several hours passed before they tired 
of the dance. But at length the last one had wrapped 
himself in a bufifalo robe and lain down in the fort. 
They slept well after their revel and were not disturbed 



THE SECOND EXPEDITION. 219 

by the slight noise made by Carson and his men as they 
drove oflf the horses. 

When they had recovered the horses most of the 
trappers were satisfied and ready to return. But Carson 
was not among these. " We must not let the rascals off 
so easily this time or they will visit us again soon," he 
reasoned. The others saw that he was right, and that 
if they punished the Indians it would save them much 
future trouble. 

They tied the horses in the shelter of some trees and 
went back to the Indian camp. Carson led his men 
around the camp and approached it from the far side, for 
he knew that they expected no attack from that quarter. 

They crept toward the camp with bated breath. 
Scarcely a twig snapped, so carefully did they move. 
But a little wolf-like dog gnawing a bone by the fire 
felt their presence and barked sharply. That waked 
his fellows and every dog in the camp began to bark. 
The Indians, roused from their dreams, jumped to their 
feet in fright. The breeze fanned the embers of the fire 
into flame. The dark bodies of the savages gleamed in 
the red firelight. Every trapper within gun-shot chose 
his man — and fired. Six bullets whistled through the 
keen air. Six Indians fell to the earth lifeless. The 
others ran together into one of the forts, and fired into 
the darkness. The trappers were all safely hidden 
behind trees and stones. They shot only when they 
were sure to kill. 



220 KIT CARSON. 

In the morning the besieged Indians saw that they 
were attacked by a small party and made a charge on 
the trappers. In the fight that followed many Indians 
fell and some of the trappers were slightly hnrt. After 
a sharp struggle the Indians went back to their forts. 
The trappers mounted their horses and rode proudly 
home with their recovered property and a new story to 
tell beside the fire on stormy evenings. 

It was such feats as this that made the name of Kit 
Carson a terror to guilty Indians. It is said that they 
would rather have a troop of United States soldiers on 
their trail than Kit Carson single handed. 

During the next season the trappers were greatly 
annoyed by Indians wlio tried to steal their horses and 
cut off their men. Once when Carson with three com- 
rades was returning from a day's search for signs of 
beavers, they fell into an ambush of half a hundred 
warriors mounted and armed. Resistance was useless. 
Their only hope lay in flight. They had better horses 
than the Indians, but in a long chase they would be 
overpowered. 

They had no time to plan, but with one impulse fol- 
lowed Carson's lead. Instead of turning and running 
from his foes, as they expected, that daring man dashed 
past them with the speed of the wind directly towards 
the camp of the whites. He and his followers bent 
over their horses' necks and the bullets of the red men 
whizzed by them without doing harm. The astonished 



FREE TRAPPING. 221 

savages reloaded their guns and started in pursuit, but 
they did not dare to follow far in that direction. 

The company to which Carson belonged was large; 
beavers were scarce; and all the trappers became discour- 
aged. Carson decided to leave the rest and start out on 
his own account. Two of his old friends accompanied 
him. His plan was to trap only in the head-waters of 
streams. The Indians were down on the plains hunting 
buffaloes, and so long as the little band kept in the 
mountains it was comparatively safe. 

After several months of hard work they returned 
to Taos with heavy packs of furs. Kit found himself 
again master of more money than he could spend. 
This time, however, he did not waste it, but placed it 
in safe keeping and started again for the wilderness. 



V. — Free Trapping. 

Taos had no charms for the brave young man who 
had made the mountains his home. He was restless and 
discontented there. He could not sleep in the small 
rooms. His food lacked flavor. He was impatient to 
get to work again. 

At last, in the autumn of 1832, a trading party was 
ready to go north. Carson joined it. He spent the 
next two years among the mountains, trading and trap- 
ping. During that time he attached himself to several 







222 - KIT CARSON. 

companies for a short period, but most of the time he 
spent as a free trapj)er. 

He was a shrewd business man and liked to trap with 
only a few comrades. For a few men could take all 
the beavers in a stream as quickly as a larger number 

could take them; and 
there were not so many 
to divide the profits. Kit 
Carson frequently left 
the large parties, and 
with two or three chosen 
friends, set forth on free 
trapping expeditions. 
A BEAVER DAM. I'liesc hardy men 

would start off with their 
traps and a small store of provisions, and ride rapidly 
through the well-known mountain passes to some far-off 
stream not often visited by white trappers. 

The way was now forbidding and now inviting. 
They scrambled up steep, narrow ledges; they forded 
foaming mountain torrents; they threaded their way 
through unexplored forests; or they cantered over 
sunny parks, and loitered through grassy valleys. But 
wherever they were, or whatever they did, they were 
always on the lookout for signs of beavers. The faintest 
footprint did not escape their trained eyes. 

They followed the tracks to some nameless stream 
which they were sure to find obstructed by a dam built 




FREE TRAPPING. 223 

by that industrious animal. These dams were made of 
sticks and trees that the beavers had cut down with 
their sharp little teeth. The foundation so made was 
well plastered with mud. In the ponds formed by the 
dams the beavers had built their lodges. 

If the lodge was a large one the trappers went into 
camp near by and set their traps regularly. They 
fastened the traps to stakes firmly driven into the bed of 
the stream. The trap 
was hidden under the 
water. A twig dipped 
in a strong-smelling 
mixture that beavers 
are fond of, was stuck a beavur trap. 

in the jaws of the trap 

When the beaver came to nibble at the twig his foot 
was sure to get caught in the trap. 

Beavers are very intelligent, and after several from 
one family had been caught, the others would not go 
near the bait. When all the beavers possible had been 
taken the trappers broke camp and started on again in 
search of other lodges. 

They traveled all day and when night came they 
stopped beside some clear, cool brook. One hobbled 
the horses; another made a fire; another threw in a line 
for a mountain trout, or shouldered his gun and went 
off to try his luck for game. When all was ready they 
sat around the fire. Each one cooked his supper to suit 



224 



KIT CARSON. 



himself. Meat was the chief article of food, and it was 
usually good, roasted and eaten while hot and juicy. 
Those who were lucky enough to have flour, made 
bread. Trapper's bread was easily made. It was a 
paste of flour, water, and salt, browned on the end of a 
stick or fried in grease. The hungry men ate it with a 
relish. 

When supper was over, they talked and smoked until 
bed time. Then they wrapped themselves in their buf- 
falo-robes and with loaded rifles at hand lay down on the 
cool earth and watched the stars in the wide sky until 
overcome by sleep. 

The night was divided into watches, and one man 
kept guard while his fellows slept. Many an hour did 
Kit Carson spend watching the stars moving across the 
black sky, or gazing at the dark towering mountains 
whose lofty snow-capped heads gleamed brighter and 
brighter in the light of the rising moon. The solemn 
grandeur of the scene satisfied him, and he was some- 
times sorry when the declining stars told him that he 
must rouse his comrade and take his share of rest. 

It was a solitary, dangerous life, but Carson loved it 
and would not have been willing to change places with 
a New York banker. 

Sometimes these free trappers got so many furs that 
it was inconvenient to carry them. Then they chose a 
point which they intended to pass on their return, and 
made a cache. To do this, they usually picked out a dry 



FAIR AND CAMP. 225 

bank of earth not far from a stream. There they made 
a little cave. They had to use the greatest care to hide 
every trace of their work lest the Indians should find it. 
They cut the sod very carefully and put it to one side. 
They laid some of the top soil on a buflfalo-robe or 
blanket. The rest of the earth they carried off in pails 
and scattered in mid-stream. When the hole was large 
enough they lined it with twigs and dry grasses and 
then packed in their furs. They covered them with 
skins and grass and rammed in the earth they had saved. 
When this was done they watered the soil and carefully 
replaced the turf. So neatly was it all done that in an 
hour or so after the work was finished a stranger would 
not have noticed the place. 

Having thus temporarily disposed of these furs they 
went in quest of more. 



VI. — Fair and Camp. 

As midsummer approached the trappers revisited their 
caches and opened them with less care than they had 
made them. With all their horses well laden with 
silky beaver furs, they hastened to the great trading 
fair that was held at some convenient place in a large 
trapping district. 

They found the traders encamped in a pleasant 
grassy expanse dotted with trees and watered by a 



226 KIT CARSON. 

strong, clear stream. Rude lodges made of bark and 
boughs nestled under spreading trees. Tents of canvas 
and tents of skins were clustered here and there in the 
meadows with their camp fires before them. 

In the larger booths the traders spread out their 
goods. Brilliant blankets, gaudy calicoes, looking- 
glasses, beads, and buttons lured the Indians, and they 
gave in exchange for them their rich beaver furs, buf- 
falo robes, and bear skins. The trappers in large com- 
panies and small companies brought in tons of beaver 
skins and carried away sugar, flour, coffee, rum, tobacco, 
powder and lead, guns, saddles, knives, and traps. It 
took some time to make these trades. The trappers, 
red and white, camped around the traders and bar- 
gained, and traded, and traded back again. 

The place presented an interesting scene. A squad 
of Indians or of trappers rode into camp with whoop 
and halloo and pitched their tents. Hunting parties 
went and came at all hours of the day. The young 
men practised target-shooting and wrestling. Old 
bronze-faced Indians sat cross-legged in the sun before 
their tents, smoking their long pipes. Trappers lounged 
in groups telling stories or playing cards and gambling. 

One day a bragging, quarrelsome fellow, after some 
ugly talk announced that he could switch any Amer- 
ican in camp. All were displeased, but the quiet, busi- 
ness-like Kit Carson was the first to speak. "Sir, I am 
an American and I demand that you take back that 



FAIR AND CAMP. 227 

remark," said he. Every one was surprised. The man 
whom every one liked, the man of few words and great 
deeds, the man who always minded his own business 
was going to have a fight with the bully of the camp, 
the man whom no one liked, who said much and did 
little, the man who attended to every one's affairs but 
his own. For a moment the boaster quailed before the 
glance of Carson. But he was large and broad 
shouldered, and the man before him was slight and 
gentle. After a moment's hesitation he turned and 
strode towards his tent. Carson did the same. 

Every one knew what that meant. They were going 
for weapons. There was no policeman to interfere. No 
one thought of objecting. They thought that was the 
proper way to settle a quarrel, and all wanted to vSee the 
affair. 

They saw the boaster, strong and cruel, rushing for- 
ward on his powerful horse. His loaded rifle was in his 
hand and his face was dark with anger. From the 
other direction rode Carson, lithe and graceful as a boy. 
A pistol was thrust in his belt. His magnificent horse 
was at full gallop. 

As he approached his foe Carson checked his horse 
and inquired, "Am I the man you are looking for?" 
"No," answered the other, at the same instant lower- 
ing his rifle at Carson's breast. Carson heard the 
word, but he saw the act as well, and understood its 
meaning. His rapid bullet pierced arm and wrist even 



228 KIT CARSON. 

while the fingers were doing their treacherous work. 
The ball intended for his heart was thus swerved from 
its deadly course and passed over his head. 

The friends of each gathered around. Carson was 
cool and quiet. He had done exactly what he wished 
and expected to do. He had saved his own life and 
given the boaster a good lesson without killing him. 
He did not approve of quarrels and never liked to speak 
of this one. 

When the trapping season arrived again, the traders 
filled the wagons that had brought provisions over the 
plains with rich furs and went back to the states. The 
trapping companies separated, and pushed again into the 
wilderness. They had provisions to last another season. 
The lucky or prudent ones had some money besides. 

In winter it was again necessary for the trappers to 
go into camp. For the sake of safety and society, 
small bands like Kit Carson's joined large companies at 
these times. The winter lodges were built in sheltered 
valleys, and, if possible, near friendly Indians. 

At these times Carson liked to visit the Indians and 
talk with them about their hunts and battles. He un- 
derstood the Indians and appreciated their good points. 
In return they liked the great hunter, who was strong 
and kind and without fear. He made many lasting 
friendships with powerful chiefs. 

But his relations with the neighboring tribes were not 
always so friendly. Some Indians were great horse 



FAIR AND CAMP. 



229 



thieves. Horses were very valuable in that remote 
country, and the trappers were dependent upon them. 
Great care was taken of them. While they grazed in 
the day time a guard was kept over them. At night 
their feet were fastened together so that they could not 
run; or they were securely tied to stakes driven in the 
earth. When fastened to a stake they were said to be 
picketed. If their feet 
were tied together 
they were ' ' hobbled. " 

A prowling Indian 
band might steal into 
camp while all were 
sleeping, cut the ropes 
that held the horses 
and lead them quietly 
away. Or they might 

create a stampede by driving a herd of frightened horses 
through a camp of picketed horses. The poor animals, 
becoming frantic with fright, would struggle until they 
had pulled up their stakes. Then they would gallop off 
with the horses of the Indians, 

When the trappers discovered their loss a war party 
was organized and sent out on the remaining horses to 
find and bring back the stolen animals. Kit Carson was 
usually the leader of these parties, and he rarely came 
back unsuccessful. 

Sometimes there were fearful struggles in the moun- 




A hobbi.e;d hokse. 



230 



KIT CARSON. 



tains. For the Indians were armed with guns and a 
handful of trappers had to fight a horde of savages. In 
one fight with the Blackfeet Indians, Carson was shot in 
the shoulder while trying to save the life of a fellow 
trapper. The wound was a painful one and he suffered 
greatly. The weather was so cold that the blood froze 
on his garments. His men made awkward but kind 
nurses. Any one of them would have given his own 
life to save that of his brave leader. The little band 
went home in sorrow and gloom that time, with no vic- 
torious shouts or recovered horses. They carried their 
wounded hero in a hammock-like litter made of blankets 
fastened to poles. 

Carson had a strong constitution, and though he had 
received a severe hurt, was soon well again. 



VII. — Hunting in the Rockies. 

In the spring of 1834, Carson took his furs to a trad- 
ing post to sell them. He found to his surprise that the 
price of beaver fur had gone down and his stock was not 
worth half of the money he had expected to receive for 
it. On asking the reason he was told that men's hats 
were being made of silk instead of beaver. This was 
the first time Kit Carson had ever been concerned about 
the kind of hats men were wearing in Paris and New 




HUNTING IN THE ROCKIES. 23I 

York. But he saw now that his business was gone. 
He could no longer make a good living by trapping. 

He started east across the mountains at once. He 
had no notion of taking up his old trade of saddle- 
making or of finding an occupation 
in a settlement. He loved the moun- 
tains and the great buffalo plains, and 
his purpose was to find some work that 
would support him there. 

When he reached Fort Bent on the 
head waters of the Arkansas, he found ^sEAVEif hat.^ 
that his reputation had gone before 
him. He received a warm welcome there. The men 
at the fort had had trouble to keep a good hunter. On 
learning that Carson had given up trapping, they 
offered him a fair salary if he would stay with them as 
hunter for the fort. That suited him. He began at 
once and continued in that office for eight years. 

It was no easy matter to supply a garrison of men 
with game through summer and winter, wet weather 
and dry, the year round. The number at the fort 
was irregular. Large parties of rangers, trading 
caravans, or exploring parties, sometimes more than 
doubled the number to be fed. Tribes of Indians hunt- 
ing in the neighborhood might make a scarcity of game 
at the time it was most needed at the fort. The garri- 
son had suffered much inconvenience in the past, but 
Carson never failed. 



232 KIT CARSON. 

He soon became familiar with the country for a hun- 
dred miles around the fort. When he did not come 
home at night no one worried, for all knew that he could 
take good care of himself. 

Hunting wild animals is dangerous business. Kit 
Carson was so skillful that he was not in such great 
danger as most men would have been in his place. But 
he had many narrow escapes. Indeed they were so 
common that he did not talk much about them. 

Of one hunting adventure, however, he was always 
fond of telling. The story of that adventure gives us 
an idea of his power to think promptly and wisely in 
moments of peril. 

He was among the Rocky Mountains trapping with 
a few comrades. At the close of a day's tramp the little 
party went into camp. While the other men were pre- 
paring for the night, Carson started off to hunt. He 
was hungry, and small game did not suit his fancy. 
Pretty soon his practiced eye recognized some elk 
tracks. He followed them and in a little while came in 
sight of a small herd not far from a clump of trees. He 
tried to gain the trees to shoot from that cover, but the 
elks were too alert. They discovered his approach and 
started. He leveled his gun and brought down one of 
the fleeing animals. 

With a feeling of satisfaction he was running towards 
his prey, when he was startled by the sound of crackling 
brush. He looked back and saw two huge grizzly bears 



HUNTING IN THE ROCKIES. 233 

rushing towards him. His gun was unloaded. What 
should he do? Kit Carson never took much time to 
make up his mind. He now stretched every nerve to 
reach the trees. "Why, bears can climb trees," you 
say. Yes, but it is always well to be above your enemy, 
and old grizzlies cannot climb very well. 

Lifelong practice had made him as nimble as a deer. 
He reached the trees, caught a limb and swung up into 
the branches while the bears were still at some distance. 
They were not running with steady swing now, but 
bounding forward with great leaps. In a moment they 
would reach the tree. Kit Carson drew his hunting 
knife and, working desperately, cut and trimmed a 
stout club in less time than it takes to tell it. 

The foremost bear started up the tree. Carson stood 
waiting in the fork of the tree. When the bear got near 
enough he gave it a sharp rap on the nose, for he knew 
that a bear's nose is very tender. The bear gave a cry 
of pain and backed down the tree, shaking its head. 
Then the other tried it and was met with a blow of 
greater violence. He also retreated and his brother tried 
again. Again he was driven back roaring with pain. 
For some time this serious yet comical conflict was kept 
up. Then the great creatures lumbered off to console 
themselves with Carson's elk. 

It was a long time before he ventured from his tree. 
It was dark when he got to the camp, and the disap- 
pointed trappers were obliged to sup on the unpalatable 



234 KIT CARSON. 

beaver. Carson's story gave flavor to the poor supper 
and no one complained. 

The chief article of food on the plains was buffalo 
meat. At the close of his eight years at Fort Bent, Kit 
Carson could count the buffaloes he had killed by thou- 
sands. A good horse was needed to hunt the buffalo, 
one that was swift and trained to the work. An inex- 
perienced horse is frightened by the great ugly animals 
and cannot be managed. Kit Carson always rode the 
finest horses — creatures that seemed to share their rider's 
courage and love of sport. 

When from some rise of ground he saw a herd of buf- 
faloes grazing on the plains he advanced easily towards 
them. If possible he approached against the wind, for 
the buffalo's sense of smell is sharper than its sight. 
As soon as the animals discovered his presence the whole 
herd was in motion. It ran with the cows and calves in 
the center of the herd. Some old bulls formed front 
and rear guards. The hunter preferred the cows, be- 
cause their flesh was more tender and their robes were 
finer. When he saw that he was discovered he dashed 
forward with all possible speed, plunged into the midst 
of the herd and singled out a fine fat cow. When he 
got close to the buffalo he aimed his pistol at a point 
back of the shoulder where the long hair of the mane 
ends. If Kit Carson fired the shot, the huge creature 
gave a bound and fell to the earth dead. 

Without checking the speed of his horse he reloaded 



HUNTING IN THE ROCKIES. 



235 




236 KIT CARSON. 

his pistol and overtook another choice cow. The herd 
sometimes led the rider a dangerous chase over rough 
ground matted with tall grass and vines. If the game 
crossed a village of prairie dogs it was dangerous for 
both herd and hunter. The holes burrowed in the earth 
were like snares catching the feet of the flying animals 
and throwing them. 

Sometimes when closely pressed a buffalo would turn 
upon the hunter and charge furiously. He made a 
dreadful looking foe. The lowered head, the erect, 
tufted tail, the massive shoulders, the shaggy mane, the 
curling black horns, the fiery eyes, the protruding 
red tongue expressed power and fury enough to frighten 
any horse into his nimblest leap. Before the disap- 
pointed creature could recover its balance and renew 
the attack the bullet of the ready hunter had pierced a 
vital part. 

On wandering hunting trips Carson often visited the 
camps of various Indian tribes. The warriors trusted 
him. They smoked with him in times of peace and 
asked his help in times of war. The women waited 
upon him and brought him their choicest food. In one 
tribe there was an Indian maid whose face was bright 
with joy when the palefaced hunter visited her father's 
wigwam. She was gentle and sweet. This man who 
knew no women of his own race; who had known so 
little that was gentle and sweet in all his life, returned 
the love of the simple Indian girl. He married her and 



CARSON AND FREMONT 



237 



took her to live at the fort. She died in a few years, 
leaving one dark-eyed little daughter. Kit loved the 
child tenderly, and not wishing her to grow up among 
the other rough, half-Indian children around the fort, 
he took her to St. Louis and placed her in a good school. 



VIII. — Carson and Fremont. 

It was sixteen years since Kit Carson had left his 
home in Missouri. In all that time he had heard noth- 
ing of his parents or brothers and sisters. On his way 
to St. Louis he turned aside from the emigrant road to 
visit the old settlement. 

Rip Van Winkle did not find greater changes after his 
twenty years' sleep in the mountains. The old cabin 
was a deserted ruin. He could find no trace of the 
large family that only sixteen years before had over- 
crowded the little house. Keenly disappointed, he 
renewed his journey to St. Louis. 

The city sights were new and strange to him. He 
stayed in St. Louis for ten days. The people who 
passed him on the streets little dreamed that this quiet 
man with the fine head, keen eyes, and kind smile was 
the terror of thieving Indians on the border. He was 
interested in city life and city people, but he longed for 
more sky, more air, more quiet, more freedom. He 



238 



KIT CARSON. 



became a passenger on the first steamboat going west on 
the Missouri. 

There were many passengers on the boat, but one man 
particularly attracted Carson's attention. He soon 
made the acquaintance of the distinguished stranger 
and found that he was Lieutenant John C. Fremont, 

who was taking a party 
of men west on a sur- 
veying and exploring 
expedition. His guide 
had failed to meet him 
and he wished to find 
another. 

Carson was homesick 
for the mountains. This 
was his opportunity. 
He told Mr. Fremont 
that he was acquainted 
with the West, and 
offered to accompany 
him as guide. Mr. 
Fremont was a cautious man and not very ready to 
make friends with strangers. But he liked Carson; he 
liked his face, his bearing, his conversation. He trusted 
him and accepted his offer. 

These two men, both to become so well known all 
over the United States because of the work they did 
together, spent many hours in conversation. Fremont 




JOHN C. FREMONT. 



CARSON AND FREMONT. 239 

was eager for information about the West, and Carson 
had plenty to give him. He had the power, too, to tell 
what he had to say in a very simple, clear way. 

The party left the boat 'at the mouth of the Kansas 
River. In the month of June, 1842, they started across 
the plains, following the river valley. Their line of 
march was north and west. Carson had never belonged 
to a company that carried so much camp baggage. This 
one had canvas tents to sleep in and a rubber boat with 
which to cross streams. These were luxuries that the 
hardy trappers did not care to be bothered with. 

There were twenty-eight men in the company, plenty 
of extra horses and mules, and several wagons. Some 
of the men were taking their first western trip. They 
were made very uncomfortable and miserable by a severe 
thunder storm which flooded their tents and drenched 
their beds. That seemed a slight matter to a man like 
Carson, whose slumbers were not easily disturbed by a 
summer rain. 

After they had been on the march several days they 
reached the haunts of the buffaloes. At first they saw 
them in scattered herds. Carson and the other old 
hunters in the party gave the new men their first lesson 
in buffalo-hunting. The number of buffaloes increased 
as they advanced. A moving cloud of dust darkened 
into an enormous herd. They rushed along, thousands 
upon thousands, to the river. They filled the valley 
and spread over the plains. The herd opened and went 



240 KIT CARSON. 

around Fremont's camp. The hunters rode into the 
midst of them and shot down cows at pleasure. Those 
were days of feasting. Only the choicest parts of the 
animals were eaten and there were tongues and marrow- 
bones enough for all. 

Day after day the party journeyed westward over 
seemingly endless plains, until at length they saw along 
the horizon billows of hazy amethysts with glorious 
shining crests. " The Rockies," said those who knew. 
"But they look like clouds," thought the new men. 
Surely those soft, resplendent masses could not be the 
gnarled and jagged Rockies. For a long time, like 
clouds, they seemed to defy approach, but gradually the 
purple of their bases deepened and the peaks became 
more dazzling. At last the travelers got near enough to 
see the black-green forests below and the glittering snow 
fields above. 

The mountain slopes were clothed with majestic pines 
and firs. Rills, here white with foam, there clear as 
crystal, leapt over stony beds down the mountain side. 
Ferns and shrubs waved over their edges. No wonder 
Carson loved the mountains and yearned for their wild 
beauty. He explored some of their passes with Fre- 
mont. Then the latter, having done the work he was 
sent to do, started home. 

He was deeply impressed with Kit Carson. The grace 
and power of the man delighted him. He did every- 
thing he attempted so well. Fremont said he had never 



CARSON AND FREMONT. 24 1 

seen a finer display of horsemanship than when Kit 
Carson, mounted, without a saddle, on a fine horse, was 
scouring bareheaded over the prairies. He had so much 
knowledge of the country and its inhabitants. He was 
such a master huntsman. Then, too, his character was 
so noble and upright. The two men said good-by with 
real regret, and hoped to meet again. 

On his return from this expedition Carson was em- 
ployed to take a message to Santa Fe. There had been 
a general uprising of the Indians in the country he had 
to cross and they were all on the warpath. He could 
find no one to go with him. So he went alone, choos- 
ing new and secret ways. Once he saw a tribe of 
mounted warriors in the distance. He dropped to one 
side of his horse and rode holding on by one leg till he 
got back of a hill. If the Indians saw the galloping 
horse they must have thought it some stray wild 
pony. 

When coming back with a young Mexican boy he met 
a party of four Indians. One large one dismounted and 
walked toward him with outstretched hand. Carson 
did the same. When they met, the treacherous Indian 
with a sudden movement tried to twist the gun from 
Carson's hand. Quick as thought, Carson dealt him a 
blow between the eyes with clenched fist that sent him 
sprawling. He jumped to his feet and ran to his com- 
rades. Disconcerted by such an unexpected show of 
power, they rode off without further signs of fight. 



242 KIT CARSON. 

After a long, hard ride Carson with the boy reached 
Fort Bent. There he learned that Fremont had passed 
a few days before on his way west. He wished to see 
him again and set out to try to overtake him. 



IX. — West with Fremont. 

A single well-mounted rider can travel much faster 
than a company carrying camp baggage. Carson soon 
overtook Fremont's party. Mr. Fremont was glad to 
see him again and urged him to join the party as 
guide. He was planning to make a long march across 
mountains and plains to the Pacific coast. 

That was exactly what Carson wanted to do. He 
rode back to Fort Bent to get mules for the journey over 
the mountains; arranged his private affairs, and, taking 
a short cut, reached the appointed meeting place before 
Fremont's party. 

The company divided at the foot of the Rocky 
Mountains, and only the hardiest ventured into their 
rugged defiles. The little band of men went in search 
of a more convenient wagon way across the mountains 
than South Pass. They did not succeed in finding one 
and were obliged to follow the old way that had been 
traveled by many emigrants on their way to Oregon. 
They followed for some distance the emigrant road, a 
track through the sage bushes worn smooth by use. 



WEST WITH FREMONT. 243 

They left this clearly marked way to explore the great 
inland sea, Salt Lake. Then they pushed north again 
to Oregon. 

Through all the long journey Kit Carson was Fre- 
mont's right-hand man. It was Kit Carson who rode 
into the starving camp with an antelope over his horse's 
neck. It was his voice that sang out cheerily to the 
despairing men after days on the sage bush plains with 
fainting horses: "Life yet! I've found a hillside 
sprinkled with grass." It was he who went forward 
with smiles of recognition and outstretched hand to 
claim as old friends hostile chiefs who had come out 
to make war on the little company. It was he who 
sprang into the icy stream to rescue his struggling 
leader. In short, Carson was the guide, the peace- 
maker, and supply agent of the expedition. Mr. Fre- 
mont did not see how he could have gotten along 
without him, and made him promise that he would go 
with him on his next expedition. 

Having finished their work on the Columbia River 
they started across the Sierra Nevada to California. 
The snow was shoulder-deep in many places. It was 
intensely cold on the bleak mountain heights. Men 
and animals suffered greatly. A path had to be made 
for the mules. Ten men started out to pack down the 
snow. They moved in single file. The leader had the 
hardest work. He kept his place till he became 
exhausted. Then he went to the rear of the line, where 



244 KIT CARSON. 

the work was lightest, and the second man became 
leader. In that way all had turns at the light and 
heavy work. 

In order to get a camping place for their horses and 
mules they built great fires about stumps and melted 
away the snow. They made their own beds on the 
snow. They put down a bed of twigs on the snow- 
crust, then spread out their blankets. With feet to the 
fire, they slept well after their hard work. 

The first day they made good progress. But they 
soon got tired out and advanced more slowly. At last, 
however, they reached Fort Sutter, where they had 
plenty of food and got new horses. This was in the 
spring of 1844. 

On the return an incident happened which gives us a 
glimpse of the generosity and daring of Kit Carson. 
They met a Mexican man and boy alone and in great 
grief An Indian band of thirty braves had captured 
their friends and horses. When Kit Carson heard that, 
he started after the Indians with one comrade. The 
two men rode all night and discovered the Indian camp 
at daybreak. Giving a terrible warwhoop they rushed 
into the camp, where the savages were just getting up 
and preparing breakfast. Carson singled out the chief, 
and he fell first. Having discharged their rifles the two 
men drew their pistols. 

Without waiting to see how many had attacked them 
the terrified savages fled without guns or clothing. 



AGAIN ON THE MARCH. 245 

Carson and his companion collected the stolen horses 
and assured themselves that the captives had been 
murdered. As they could do no more, they rode back 
and gave the Mexicans their horses and told them, the 
sad fate of their friends. 

These heroic men had ridden one hundred miles in 
thirty hours, routed thirty Indians and recovered fifteen 
horses. They had done it all out of the kindness of 
their hearts to help strangers in distress. 



X. — Again on the March. 

When Kit Carson left Ivieutenant Fremont he decided 
to go to farming. A short time before starting on the 
last expedition he had married a beautiful young Span- 
ish lady and he now began to think of settling down in 
a home of his own. 

He bought a large tract of land for a stock farm and 
began to put up his house and barns. Just as he was 
making good headway in this work a messenger arrived 
from Fremont. Carson was reminded of his promise to 
join Fremont on his next expedition, and urged to keep 
his word, as the explorer was ready to enter upon his 
third journey, 

Carson sold his farm at a loss, and in company with a 
tried friend and old trapper went at once to join Fre- 
mont. Fremont said affectionately, "This was like 



246 KIT CARSON. 

Carson, prompt, self-sacrificing, and true." Of the man 
that accompanied Carson, he wrote: " That Owens is a 
good man; it is enough to say that he and Carson 
are friends." 

The purpose of this trip was to explore the Great 
Basin, a region never before crossed by white man, and 
looked upon by Indians as an impassable desert. The 
explorers found that it was not so bad as report had 
represented it. Instead of being a level waste of sand it 
was crossed by numerous ridges of mountains. There 
were occasional springs and streams of fresh water, 
where grass grew in small patches. These oases were 
not very numerous, however, and the whole company 
did not venture to advance, trusting to luck to find 
good camping grounds. 

Carson and a few other mountaineers were sent ahead 
to find grass and water. When one discovered an oasis 
he built a fire. The men watching at the old camp saw 
the smoke curling up against the clear sky. All hands 
fell to work to break up camp and get the caravan in 
marching order. In a few hours the entire company 
was winding its way across the desert to the signal 
smoke. When one of the men found a fine camping 
ground, Fremont named the place in honor of the dis- 
coverer. Many a clear stream in the Great Basin bears 
the name of our hero. 

In this region the only Indians met with were tribes 
of "Digger" Indians. They were poor, ignorant. 



AGAIN ON THE MARCH. 



247 



timid creatures, who lived in holes and fed on roots and 
berries. They seemed little better than animals. The 
explorers pitied them and tried to gain their confi- 
dence. 

When in the northern part of California they were 
attacked by a thousand painted braves. These Indians 
were armed only with arrows. Fremont's little band of 
sharpshooting riflemen soon proved to them that a man 
armed with a bow is no match for a man armed with a 
gun. 

Not long afterwards the party found other use for their 
rifles. Mexico and the United States were at war. 
Fremont converted his explorers into soldiers. Trap- 
pers and hunters from far and near joined them, and 
he soon found himself at the head of a regiment of 
mountaineers. 

It became necessary for him to send word to Wash- 
ington. Carson was chosen to carry the dispatches. 
Colonel Fremont's dispatches were brief, for, said he, 
" Carson had been so a part of all my life for the past 
eighteen months, my letters were chiefly indications of 
points which he would tell them in full." This shows 
the confidence the great explorer had in the honesty, 
intelligence, and ability of the unschooled moun- 
taineer. 

When Carson had completed the most dangerous part 
of the journey, he met General Kearny at the head of a 
body of United States troops, on the way to California. 



248 KIT CARSON. 

He requested Carson to intrust the dispatches to another 
bearer and go back with him as guide. Carson was 
unwilling to give up the dispatches and refused to do so. 
Then the general commanded him, and he was obliged 
to obey. He got back in time to take an active part in 
the war. 

In March, 1847, Carson was again sent to Washing- 
ton with dispatches. This time he completed the jour- 
ney. Colonel Fremont gave further evidence of his 
high regard for Carson. He notified his family of the 
coming of his friend. His married daughter in St. 
Louis and Mrs. Fremont in Washington entertained 
him and showed him every possible courtesy. They 
met the mountaineer at the depot with a carriage. 
They gave dinners for him. They introduced him to 
the best society of the two cities. The man from the 
wilderness did not appear out of place in a drawing- 
room. These refined, cultured people were as delighted 
with him as Colonel Fremont had been. They were 
not interested in him because he was odd. They loved 
him because he was loyal and true and brave. 

Senator Benton of Missouri was so impressed with the 
man that he gave him this high praise: "To me, Kit 
Carson and truth mean the same." 

After his return to the West, Carson was once more 
sent to Washington with dispatches. He made a pleas- 
ant visit in that city, then went back to Taos to make 
his home there. 



AT HOME. 249 

XI. — At Home. 

The earlier part of Carson's life had been spent in 
forts and cainps. In his later years he could enjoy, 
when he cared to, the restful quiet of a happy home. 
Indeed he had two comfortable homes. 

One was a one-storied dwelling of sun-dried brick 
facing the public square of Taos. When he was there 
its doors were always open to trappers, traders, and 
Indians. All liked him. Old trappers made his home 
a sort of meeting place where they could gather and talk 
over old times. The Indians called him "Father Kit," 
and came from far and near to see him. He always 
greeted them with the formal courtesy they liked, and 
made them very welcome. 

Besides this "town house" he had a large farm, or 
ranch, in a fertile valley forty miles away. Here, in a 
fine, comfortable house, with his beautiful Spanish wife 
and happy little ones, and waited upon by faithful 
servants, he could live as easily and pleasantly as he 
wished. 

Colonel Fremont tells about visiting Carson on his 
ranch. He had been on a long, hard expedition and 
Carson's home seemed very luxurious. In writing to 
his wife he told her what a careful host his old comrade 
made, and mentioned particularly the delicious cup of 
hot chocolate that was brought to his room every 
morning. 

Carson was an active man and liked movement and 



250 



KIT CARSON. 



adventure. He kept excellent horses, and in the morn- 
ing, after riding over his farm to see that all was in good 
order, he frequently went out to spend the day in hunt- 
ing. For the flesh of wild game was sweeter for him 
than the tender shoulders of mutton from his own sheep 
or the juicy roasts of beef that the fat young steers of 
his ranch furnished. 

His days of long expeditions were by no means over. 
In 1853 he, with some Mexican drovers, drove six thou- 
sand five hundred sheep to California. You may be 
sure he did not follow the route across the desert by 
which he first went to California. 

The sheep were first driven to Fort Laramie, and then 
along the regular emigrant road past Salt Lake and 
onward through what is now the state of Nevada. No 
one who was a stranger to the country could have taken 
them over this route. But Carson knew where he would 
find water and good pasturage, and so he succeeded in 
getting nearly all the sheep safely over into the green 
valley of the San Joaquin. 

Of course these animals could travel but very slowly 
and the journey occupied several weeks; but to Carson 
and his Mexican drovers time was of little value; and no 
sooner had they reached the settlements in California 
than they were able to sell- their flocks at a very great 
profit. 

Before returning home, Kit Carson went down the 
Sacramento valley to San Francisco to see the wonderful 



AT HOME. 251 

changes which had been made since his first visit to that 
place. At this time almost everybody in California was 
hunting for gold, and the whole valley was dotted with 
busy mining camps. 

San Francisco, which was a straggling little village 
when Carson had last seen it, was now a bustling city 
with thirty-five thousand inhabitants. Had he not 
recognized the hills which stood back of it, he would 
not have believed that it was the same place. 

Here Carson was greeted by many old friends and by 
many strangers who had heard of him and wanted to do 
him honor. The attentions which these people gave 
him were well-intended, but they were far from being 
agreeable to him. He had hoped to find here a quiet 
place where he might rest after the toil of his long 
journey over the mountains. But there was no such 
thing as quiet in San Francisco, and his friends would 
not let him rest. They tried to tempt him into all 
sorts of dissipation; they invited him to join them at 
the gambling-table and in their drinking bouts and 
lawless carousals. But Kit Carson was a man of too 
sound principles to be led astray by such temptations. 
" No, my friends, my habits of life are different from 
yours, and I do not care to change them. I cannot join 
you in these things." 

And so when, a few days later, he took his departure 
from the new city, he left it having a character as pure 
and a conscience as clean as when he had entered it ; 



252 KIT CARSON. 

and those who had been foremost in urging him to do 
wrong honored him for his courage and his steadfast 
adherence to principle. 

One summer Carson took fifty horses and mules to 
Fort Laramie, five hundred miles away. At another 
time he organized a large trapping party of old com- 
rades and lived over old days, in old places, with old 
friends. 

They dashed across the plains to the South Platte 
River, and there, in the same region where they had 
trapped and hunted in their younger days, they pitched 
their camp. Then followed a summer of rare enjoy- 
ment. Beavers were plentiful, for the business of trap- 
ping had fallen into disuse, and these animals had been 
little disturbed for several years. Carson and his friends 
were surprised at their success, and they worked with 
just as much energy as when, long ago, they had trapped 
for a livelihood. 

After spending some weeks in the valley of the Platte, 
they worked their way gradually southward through the 
great mountain parks. They visited all their old re- 
sorts, and set their traps along the same mountain 
brooks where they had had such varying success in 
their younger days. 

In one of the mountain glens they came upon a huge 
grizzly, which they caught with a lasso. But the sav- 
age fellow gave them so much trouble that they were 
obliged soon to kill him ; and the next day, which was 



AT HOME. 



253 



the Fourth of July, they feasted on bear steaks, and cele- 
brated the independence of our country in true trapper 
fashion. 

At the close of the summer, the party returned to 
Taos loaded with furs and feeling that they had truly 
renewed their youth. To most of them this summer of 
adventures, so full of wild enjoyment, proved to be the 
end of their trapping experiences. 

In the Civil War, Carson was made colonel of a regi- 
ment of New Mexican volunteers. It is said that when 
he led his regiment against the rebellious Navajo 
Indians, he left camp early in the morning with a few 
Indian scouts and did all the fighting before the regi- 
ment, in charge of the lieutenant-colonel, arrived on 
the scene. 

For many years he served as Indian agent. He was 
a good one. He understood the Indians, and wished to 
see them justly treated. They knew that he was their 
friend, and he had great influence with them. Some- 
times he went unattended to the council of Indians 
planning war, and talked to them so simply and kindly 
that they chose peace rather than bloodshed. He 
smoked the peace pipe with them, and they vowed to 
be his friends as long as life endured. 

But even Carson could not change the revengeful 
nature of the Indians. Nor could he make right all the 
wrongs the tribes had suffered from unprincipled white 
men. Frequent and terrible uprisings kept the settlers 



254 



KIT CARSON. 



on the frontier in uneasiness. Carson was prompt to 
punish such offenses, and, while the peaceful Indians 
loved him, the lawless and treacherous feared him. 

A writer who once visited him at Taos thus describes 
his manner of life during this period: " While he spends 
as much of his time as possible at his ranch 
the duties of his office compel 
him to spend most of it in 
Taos. The thousand 
kindly acts he is able 
form for 
d i a n s 
cured 
for him- 
now he 

INDIAN PEACE PIPE. 

protec- 

he is known — and what In- 

Mexico does not know him ? He goes among them and 

entertains them as the children of his charge, having 

their unbounded confidence and love. 

" Every year, in the hey-day of the season, Carson 
claims the luxury of another revival of earlier associa- 
tions, in a few days, or perhaps weeks, spent in the 
chase. In these excursions he is joined by some of his 
old compeers, as well as by later acquired friends and 
men of reputation and culture — chance visitors to 
Taos — and by a select few of the Indian braves from 
the tribes under his charge. ' ' 




to per- 
the In- 

have se- 
sucli regard 
self that 
needs no 
tion where 
dian in New 



AT HOME. 255 

In the last years of his life he had the satisfaction of 
knowing that white men, as well as red, respected the 
work he had done ; of knowing that he was the 
acknowledged hero of the Rockies. In his last illness 
his friend and physician read aloud to him the history 
of his life, which had just been published. He enjoyed 
listening to the account of his adventures, but with 
characteristic modesty wondered that any one should 
think it worth while to record them in a book. 

He died at the age of sixty, not far from the 
mountains he loved. 

Tales as wonderful as fairy legends are told about 
this hero of the Rockies by the natives of those rugged 
heights. And we shall not soon forget this prince of 
mountaineers, "nature's nobleman," who, when there 
were none to know, in the depths of the wilderness, 
still thought it worth while to be brave, true, and 
manly. 



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